


FALLING WITH THE LEAVES

by Donalduck00



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, TeenHarry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 144,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28733280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donalduck00/pseuds/Donalduck00
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	1. WAITING FOR WEDNESDAY

The first time Harry saw Louis it was in spring , the guy was wearing a yellow shirt with a weird smiley on it , and jeans , sitting on one of the benches , Reading a book.

Harry just walked past him then, leash in his hand as his dog followed him through the park, or well. He followed his dog.

The guy just sat there, calm, turning a page, before glancing up at Harry. Their eyes met then, but it wasn't like Fireworks were exploding in his stomach or heavens angels started singing. He saw the other smile at his dog and then the moment was over.

He walked past and Louis took his eyes back to his book.

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The second time Harry saw Louis it was in summer, it was hot, and Harry was sweating, and Louis sat on one of the benches, Reading a book again.

Bobby followed him on the leash, tired and sweating too. His thick fur wasn't made for summer. Harrys hat shielded his eyes from the sun so he didn't know if Louis looked up at him at all, or if he smiled at his dog again.

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The first time Harry actually spoke to Louis it was in autumn. The weather wasn't that nice, it looked like it was going to rain soon, but he walked through the park anyway , Bobby following him again.

It was then that his dog decided that sniffling Louiss jeans, as the other was Reading a book, is a Good idea.

"Uhm, sorry about that" he says "I know I'm like supposed to let go of the trigger to stop him, but like, I think that would jolt him back, I don't want to hurt him"

"It's okay " the other says then, putting his book aside, vending down to pet Bobby" I like dogs"

For Harry that was like an invitation. So he sits down besides the other man then, watching how Bobby acted like Louis is the first one to ever give him that kind of attention.

"What's his name?" the man asks, and then after a pause "What's your name?"

"That Little fur ball is Bobby, I'm Harry" he grins.

"I'm Louis" the other says, before tilting his head up to look at the clouds, and Harry accidentally stares at his Adams apple. "Do you think it's gonna rain?"

"Maybe" he returns, leaning back on the bench. "I've got an umbrela in my car, so it's not a problem"

"It's not like the rain is gonna hurt" Harry grins.

"Yeah, but who wants to get wet?" Louis says, scrunching up his nose.

"Sometimes it's Good to just let things happen" Harry says and laughs "How much rain are we going to experience before we die?"

"Die of pneuomina, you mean" Louis says and lifts an eye brow at him.

Harry just grins back, he doesn't have an answer to that.

"So what are you reading?" Harry asks, trying to get a look at the book in Louiss lap.

Louis lifts his book then, showing him the book cover.

"Confessions of a Surgeon" Harry reads outloud, "Is it good?"

"It tells the truth" Louis answers and puts the book down again.

"Oh? Are you a surgeon?" Harry says and he can't help but sound impressed.

"I'm in my last year of training, so at the end of this year, I'll be" Louis replies "I like to read this book to compare experiences".

Harry nods, makes sense to him "How old are you?"

"26" Louis says, watching as Bobby turns his attention to some pigeons.

Harry doesn't really know about this stuff, but he thinks 26 is really Young to be a surgeon.

"I'm 19" he answers instead "I'm on my gap year right now, so... I've got plenty of time"

"Huh, that's young" Louis says and looks like he is thinking about something.

Harry doesn't really know what he means, so he just says "I'm not a child"

"No, you're not" Louis agrees easily, before he sighs and stands up "I've got to go, I Will see you around I guess"

"Yeah" Harry says "See you"

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The next time he goes in to the park, he is hoping to see Louis, but the other isn't there. Infact, he sees Louis again after one week has already passed, and not in the park, but at night, out side of a local bar he and his Friends like to go sometimes.

They are about to go in, when he catches him leaning against a house wall, smoking a cigarette.

He tells the others to go ahead and walks towards Louis.

"Hey" he greets.

"Harry" Louis just says, taking a drag from his cigarette" It's a surprise seeing you here, I remember this bar being only for people who aren't minors anymore"

Harry grins "Cowell likes me"

"Who?"

"The owner of the bar, Cowell, he likes me"

"That's Good then"

"So are you alone here or...?"

"No, Friends of mine dragged me here" Louis sighs "They are getting wasted inside"

"Yeah, mine too" Harry says, and watches how the Street lamp lights up Louiss features in the most suiting way.

Louis looks kind of dangerous, with his tattoos and piercings, lean but muscular build, and so much taller tan Harry. Harry is intrigued, but Louis leaves him with a smile and a "See you around" again.

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If he thinks about it, it's actually kind of weird, he talked to Louis two times, but the other just won't leave his mind.

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It's Wednesday when he walks to the park again and he sees him from afar. The other waves at him and he can't help but let a happy grin spread across his face.

"Hey" he says, as he sits down on the bench again, Louis already putting his book aside "You do read a lot, don't you?"

"Reading is something that gives me peace" Louis shrugs" I've read this book already though" Harry guesses that's just the kind of person Louis is. Louis thinks things over, mulls over a thought, looking for meaning and if not provided with one, he throws them away. He would read a book two or three times because he might could have missed something.

"So what do you like to do?" Louis says then and Harry has to think about it." I like to eat" he says and he is serious, but Louis laughs like he made a joke.

Harry just grins "Wanna grab some food?"

Louis looks at him for a while, before he nods "I would like that"

Harry has to tell himself that this is not a date.

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Meeting up in the park and then doing something together becomes their routine. Somehow it's every Wednesday. Harry doesn't even pretend anymore that he has to walk Bobby, and Louis stops pretending that he is in the park to enjoy his book.

Sometimes Harry catches Louis looking at him in a way he can't really place. Sometimes he thinks Louis is flirting with him, but he isn't really sure about it.

He can't help but be insecure about these things, because Louis just makes him so nervous and unsure, makes him rethink things he never questioned before.

Louis gets his heart beating faster and faster.

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The next Wednesday, Louis is already at the park when Harry gets to their meeting place.

"Hey" Harry says, greeting Louis "I thought we could see this new action movie, It's about-"

He interrupts himself.

"Oh" he says, "What's wrong?"

Louis looks exhausted, his normal bags under his eyes even worse than before. His expression defeated, his posture lacking the usual grace. Eyes red.

"I just... had a fight with someone" Louis says, and then ruffles through Harrys hair "Don't worry about it"

Harry blushes at the action, can't help it "You can tell me, you know" he says and means it.

"It's not important" Louis answers and smiles at him, as if to reassure him.

"Who did you fight with?" he asks then.

"Not important" Louis repeats after a while of silence and waves him off" Let's do something, I have been looking forward to see you"

He grins at him and Harry can tell that Louis is being honest.

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It's been weeks, and he noticed that with Louis, he can talk about absolutely everything. There's a sense of company and belonging without actually having to try; Louis's not looking to cut him open and see what he's thinking, what he's feeling, and it's easy to just let his mind speak, when he is with him.

"Do you ever think about... like just taking a train to leave? Just let it take you somewhere? Anywhere?" Harry asks, as they sit on the bench in the park and the autumn wind tousles their hair, the sun going down behind the clouds.

"I don't know" Louis answers.

"I used to" Harry replies, watching as Louis pushes a fallen leaf away from his knee "When my sister died. I thought about it a lot"

"I think the thought of leaving is a better escape than actually leaving" Louis says, and then "I would leave with you though"

Harry isn't sure if Louis is joking or not. With Louis he just can't tell.

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The next Wednesday morning came with the singing of birds and cold fog.

He and Louis decided to meet up early this time.

He grabs a cup of coffee, black with two pieces of sugar, just like the other likes it, when he makes his way to the park.

"You want to go through the park a little?" he says, when he greets Louis at their bench, handing him the coffee, who accepts it with a nod and a smile.

"Sure" Louis says and starts walking besides him.

The trees are red and colorful, and Harry thinks, while he likes the summer and spring, autumn is like natures grand finale, before it goes to sleep for a while.

"You look tired" he says, watching how Louis falls easily in to step with him.

"I took the night shift" Louis answers, stuffing his hands in his pockets of his jacket "I came straight from work"

"You should be asleep right now, you look like you can barely stand"

"I'm fine" Louis smiles "I'm used to lack of sleep"

"Seriously,youdon't-"

"It's Wednesday" Louis says, calmly, like that's a valid reason.

"And?"

"Wednesday is the day I get to see you, stupid"

He doesn't say anything to that, breath stuck in his throat, but he smiles at Louis, and lets the topic go.

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The Wednesdays got colder with each week, and Louis fussed at his lack of appropriate clothing. 

"Here" he says, getting his scarf off himself, before putting it around Harrys neck, the warm fabric of Louiss scarf feeling good against his throat

"Keep it, so at least you have one decent scarf, you idiot"

"Your tattoos" he says, as Louis binds the fabric "I like them"

"You do?" Louis says and looks at his hands, when he is finished "I thought... because of your sister..."

"It's just a word" he smiles and then "You look badass"

Louis grins "Mission accomplished then"

"Seriously?"

"No, of course not" Louis says and shrugs "I got them when I decided to be a surgeon" Harry laughs

"Aren't your hands supposed to keep the living alive?"

"But death is inevitable" Louis says and Harry takes his hand to look at the ink letters more closely "They are just a reminder"

Harry hums and lets Louiss hand go, even though it was hard to do.

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As usual Harry made his way to the park in the following week, it started raining after he left his house, and he was way too lazy to go back, and way too eager to see Louis, that he didn't care about getting wet.

"Hey" he says, walking towards Louis, who stands in the rain, umbrella in hand, waiting for him.

Louis smiles before pulling him in an one armed hug. Harry feels his cheeks getting heated at how close they are.

"You are wet" Louis mumbles, before he lets him go.

He laughs "Yeah, the rain caught me by surprise"

"You're going to catch a cold this way" Louis says and starts walking.

"Oh, doctor, doctor" Harry grins and Louis shoves him a little, but makes sure he stays under the umbrella with him.

"You should get out of these clothes" Louis says, after a while, andL uffy isn't sure if he only imagined Louiss littles mirk.

"Your apartment isn't far from here, isit?" the other says then "We have to cut our meeting short today, but I'm gonna take you to your apartment"

Harry nods and Louis chuckles "Can't have you walking around in the rain and have you sick at the end of the day"

"I don't get sick" he sticks his tongue out at Louis who laughs.

Apparently he does get sick, but it's not that bad with Louis in his kitchen cooking him chicken soup and then staying a while at his bed, just talking about his day, bitching at him for his carelessness, until it's hard for him to stay awake and he falls asleep listening to Louiss voice.

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It's the end of autumn when he noticed he is in love with Louis.

They start meeting up at Harrys place after that regularly, it's getting too cold out side to stay out for too long, so they mostly spend their time inL uffys little apartment, sitting on the couch enjoying hot tea, while the rain falls down outside, hitting the windows softly.

"I like your apartment" Louis says, tea in his hands, as he looks around.

"Really? It's small and messy and-"

"It's perfect" Louis says "It's home to you, isn't it?"

Harry looks around in his own little space, after Gemma died he moved out, he couldn't stay in the apartment they shared, too many memories reminding him of what he lost.

He stopped breathing after his sisters death and this apartment marks the start where the oxygen could fill his lungs again, without shredding him apart.

He looks at Louis sitting on his couch, crosslegged, leaning against the cushions a little, relaxed and comfortable. Petting Bobby who is lying beside Louis, leaning his head on the others lap.

"It's home" he says softly and Louis smiles at him.

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On some Wednesdays they even forgot the time, when they joke around in his apartment, play videogames, or talk about everything and nothing. Harry never tells Louis to leave no matter how late it is.

And even if Louis has to work on some Thursday mornings, the other never leaves before he feels like he really has to.

"You wanna stay the night?" Harry asks "It's kinda late, and I doubt you want to walk through the storm"

Louis snorts "Didn't you tell me to just experience things?"

"Yeah, but I didn't tell you to get struck by lightening, smartass"

Louis laughs "If you don't mind"

"I want you here" Louis looks at him then, and Harry tries hard not to look away, tries hard to look into Louiss eyes, and not at his lips when the other is so close.

When Louis comes even closer to him, slowly, carefully, maybe unsure, and when Harry notices how Louiss eyes flick down to his lips, and he feels his thump softly sliding along the scar on his cheek, he wishes he had the guts to lean in more, just a little more, and kiss the other.

Before he can react though, the moment is ruined when Louiss phone starts ringing, the other jerking his head back quickly, and Harry lets out a disappointed sigh.

"Excuse me, I have to take this" Louis says and goes to answer his phone in the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in his living room.

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It was a Friday and a surprise when he is at the park, walking Bobby when he sees Louis and a young woman standing at their bench. He doesn't know why he is surprised, it was silly of him to think Louis only goes to the park on Wednesday when he knows Harry will be there too.

He makes his way over to them, before greeting them with his usuals mile.

"Oi, Louis" a women says, long brown hair falling down her shoulder "Who's your friend?" she smiles at him, a big toothy happy grin, as she hangs on the arm of the man he loves.

Louis looks uncomfortable "That's Harry, we met here, at the park"

"Aw, man" the woman says and pouts "He is a cutie! You never told me about him!" she smiles at him "I'm Eleanor, by the way"

"Hey, nice to meet you" he says, smiling back, shaking the offered hand "And you know Louis...?"

"Why, I'm his girlfriend" she grins.

Oh.

"Oh" he says, and his smile drops, although he tries to keep his expression from showing how hurt he is "I didn't know you had a girlfriend"

Louis tries to say something, but Eleanor punches his shoulder playfully "Hey! Jerk! How can you forget about me?"

"We don't know each other that long, Eleanor" Louis answers, taking the girls hand while he avoids meeting Harrys eyes "Or that well"

Liar, Harry thinks, but he doesn't say anything and swallows his anger about it. Louis never said anything about them, never made a promise, they never defined what their relationship is. And as far as Harry is concerned, everything that made him think that maybe he and Louis are, or could be, more than friends, could have been just in his head.

Maybe he just imagined the connection they have. Maybe the romantic feelings are from his side only.

Eleanor smiles at him "You should tag along tonight, we are going to eat out with some friends"

He throws Louis a questioning glance, but the other is still not looking him in the eyes.

He sighs and says "Another time maybe, I already got plans tonight"

They bid their goodbyes and when he starts walking home, he notices how the branches are bare, how the last brown leaves are only to be seen beneath his feet. The wind is cold and hurts his lungs as he breathes in.

It was winter, when he met the person Louis is in love with .


	2. BREAK MY FALL

The rain is hitting his window softly, clouds dark, as he waits for the water to boil. The little lamp in his kitchen gives a warm light, but flickers sometimes, and doesn't do much to light up the small room. He makes a mental reminder to change the light-bulb soon, before it stops working entirely.

He pushes his bangs out of his face and can't help but let out a deep sigh when he hears laughter and a "God, Bobby, stop it" from his living room.

He leans against the counter, deep in his thoughts, the old clock on the wall ticking away as his mind repeats the last few days.

Louis has a girlfriend. And as much as he wants to hate her for stealing the other man away from him, for being the person Louis loves, for just being there. He can't. Eleanor is actually a nice girl, friendly, funny, open-minded, truth be told, Harry thinks, she is absolutely wonderful. He gets what Louis sees in her. And the pink-haired girl didn't steal Louis, because even if it hurts to admit it, Louis has never been his in the first place.

Eleanor was there first. Eleanor was there before Harry even knew him. They have been together for three and a half years now. Harry is not going to be the one to try to tear them apart, even if his own heart has to suffer. He isn't even sure if he could, Louis is obviously not interested in guys, although he thought that was the case.

Now he tells himself that he only made it up in his head, maybe he desired Louis so badly, that he couldn't distinguish between Louis only being a nice friend, and someone who would want to date him. He was always told that he possessed a vivid imagination.

He lets out a frustrated sigh again and tells himself not to think about it, as he takes the water from the stove to fill the cups, pouring it over the tea bags, before adding sugar.

He walks into his living room, where Louis opened the window, because he likes hearing the rain, Harry knows.

He is sitting at his usual spot, Harrys dog lying his head in the others lap. Louis seriously wasn't joking when he said that he likes dogs.

He chuckles a little as he walks over, putting the cups on the small table, before letting himself fall against the cushions besides Louis.

"Your dog loves me" Louis says and grins at him, petting Bobby. Not only my dog, he doesn't say.

"He loves you more than me" Harry says and pouts, before a thought crosses his mind "Why don't you owe one? If you like them so much?"

"Oh, well" Louis says, and scratches the back of his head "Eleanor is allergic to dogs. Well, to all kind of animals with fur actually, so...yeah. It's just not an option"

"Ah, alright" he nods.

Louis glances at him before he bends over to pick up his cup from the table, the movement causing Bobby to lift his head from Louis' lap.

"It's Eleanor's birthday soon" Louis says then "She asks if you want to come, party is at our apartment"

"Yeah, sure" Harry shrugs, although he doesn't want to be near the two at all "I have never been at your place before"

"It's nothing special" Louis answers, taking a careful sip from his hot tea "I like your place much more"

Harry just hums, and maybe he finds it kinda weird, that Louis prefers his place over his own. His apartment is really nothing special, small, but warm and comfortable, lived in. But it's nothing to write home about. He doesn't get what Louis likes so much about it.

"Mh, do I need to get her a present?" Harry asks then, thinking it over "What does she like?"

"Food" Louis says and chuckles "She is just like you"

He doesn't find it funny, in fact, he finds it to be the worst comparison ever. But he doesn't say anything, although he is sure his emotions about it are blatantly displayed on his face.

He wants to disagree and say that Eleanor and him are nothing alike. Because she has everything he wants, and that is the biggest difference there can be.

Louis can say something, so casual and so carelessly like that and he would never know how much these simple words hurt him. He can't fault him for that though, Harry has kept his mouth shut, has never confronted Louis about Eleanor and him, and why he just didn't tell him. He doesn't get why Louis felt the need to hide his girlfriend from him.

But now, when he thinks about it, while they could talk about everything and did talk about everything, they have avoided the topic of love, sex or anything that comes close to it. Harry had just assumed, that Louis was...well, gay.

Louis doesn't even know that Harry is. He never spoke about his preference.

Not much has changed between them since he learned that Louis and his relationship can only exist on a friendly base. He made sure it didn't. He would rather stay Louiss friend, and be happy for him, then lose him because he can't keep his heart in check.

He lets out a sigh, sometimes he wishes Louis would have told him that his heart already belongs to someone, maybe he could have kept himself from falling then.

"What is it? You've been quiet today" Louis says, and sends him a worried glance. "Ah, it's just a headache" Harry smiles reassuringly "Don't worry about me"

He has always been a bad liar, but fuck, Louis is so oblivious, if he doesn't notice how he is in love with him, then he won't see through a simple lie like that.

"Can't help it" Louis answers "Want me to go so you can take a nap?"

"No" he says, maybe a little bit too quick "Stay"

Louis smiles at him, before lifting his hand to ruffle through Harry's hair, his fingers sliding through it softly and Harry looks down at his hands, tries hard to keep the blush out of his face.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" Louis sighs, more to himself than to him, and lets his hand sink slowly.

Harry lifts his eyes then, and Louis actually looks troubled.

Maybe Louis can't see through him, but the other man is not an open book for him either.

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"Your neighbor is creeping me the fuck out" Louis says, as they leave his apartment.

"Mh? Zayn? Why?" Harry says, he never had a problem with the man, quite on the contrary actually. They are really close friends, and Zayn knows what he feels for Louis, so the man's angry staring contest with Louis might result from that.

Zayn thinks Louis is a coward. Harry doesn't get it.

"He always glares at me, whenever I meet him in the hallway" Louis answers, shrugging "Not that I couldn't take him on, but..."

"Don't worry, that's just his face, he can't help it" Harry chuckles.

Louis snorts "He doesn't look that way at you or that blonde guy that always lingers in front of his door, like he isn't sure if he wants to go in or not"

Harry rolls his eyes "You mean Niall, and yes, everybody only hates you, you poor thing"

Louis shakes his head, but grins at him "That was not what I was trying to say, stupid"

"You love me" Harry says and damn it, he really has to learn to keep his mouth shut. He is embarrassed and tries to hide his face into the scarf Louis gave him once.

But Louis just shrugs "Can't deny it" he says simply and, fuck, Harry wishes. He laughs instead "C'mon, let's just eat something"

"Tony's?" Louis asks and Harry just nods in agreement, it's their favorite Italian restaurant.

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"Man, I wish I knew this restaurant sooner" Louis sighs, a content smile on his face, when they sit down at their usual seats and have already placed their order.

"Tony's the best" Harry grins.

"No doubt" the other man agrees "Thanks for introducing it to me"

"Yeah man" Harry says "You should be grateful, you weren't living your life before"

"Oh, what would I do without you?"

"Eat at fuckin' pizza hut like a big nerd"

Louis laughs then, open and free, and Harry smiles at him. He loves these moments with Louis. It's easy to pretend that there is no girlfriend then, there is no Eleanor waiting for him, there is only Louis and him at their favorite table, at their favorite restaurant, joking around, enjoying the others presence.

Maybe this is enough, maybe he doesn't need more.

When Louis says goodbye to him later, and hugs him casually, he wants to stay close to Louis, wants to bury his head in the other mans chest, wants to kiss Louis, and wants the other to go home with him. He never wants to let him go, but he has to eventually and he realizes then and there, that what they have now, will never be enough for him.

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"Harry!" Eleanor squeals, falling around his neck "Thanks for coming! I'm glad! Come in, come in!"

"Thanks for the invite" Harry smiles as she lets him go, can't help it, not when the girl is grinning so happily at him.

"I've got something for you" he says, and smiles when she claps her hands excitedly, before trusting her the two cards in her hand "Here, for you and Louis, you could go out together. Or well, you can go with a friend, or whatever, you can go alone, I don't know-"

"Is it an all you can eat gift card from the new restaurant down-town?" Eleanor asks and grins at him delighted, Harry thinks she may be slightly drunk already "Ah! We should go together, Harry! Louis is just ashamed that I eat so much" she laughs "Right, sweetie?" she calls over her back and he sees Louis coming up behind her.

"Right" Louis smiles at him, and god, he looks so good. With his black jeans and simple white shirt, it's enough to make him look casually stunning.

Eleanor goes back to the other guests with an "Look what I got motherfuckers!" waving her new present and Harry can't help but let out a laugh.

"I'm glad you came" Louis says, taking his jacket when Harry shrugs it off.

"Wouldn't have missed it" Harry says and smiles when Louis puts a hand on his back to lead him into the living room.

There are already people mingling here and there, he notices how most of the men are sitting on the spacious couch and the armchairs and the girls sitting at a rather big dining room table. There is music in the background, and alcohol is located on both tables, the noise of excited conversation is filling the room.

Louis' apartment, is well, big. And the more he looks around, he finds it's the complete opposite of his own. His is always a little messy, cluttered with things, photos of his friends decorating the wall, red and orange dominating his place. Louis' own home is clean, wide open spaces, it looks expensive, organized, the walls are white and just here and there are abstract paintings hanging on the wall. There are no photos of Louis and Eleanor to be found, not even of some friends, making the whole place seem impersonal.

Harry is a little bit surprised, he thought with a woman living here too, that everything would be a little bit more lovingly furnished.

And although the whole place is heated and warm enough to walk around in a shirt, everything still seems cold somehow.

If Louis likes to live so neatly, how can he like Harry's home so much?

"Nice place" he says, although he never felt more uncomfortable, but he doesn't know if that is because of the apartment, or because he knows Eleanor is here.

"Thanks" Louis answers, but if the raised eyebrow is any indication, he knows that Harry is just exchanging pleasantries.

"How come you never invited me here before? We always hang around at my place" It's a reasonable question, Harry thinks.

Louis seems to think about it, but then just says jokingly "Because of Bobby, obviously"

Harry laughs and lets it go.

After Louis introduces him to his friends, as "the guy I met in the park, that I told you about", he feels the uncomfortable feeling slowly ebbing away. Louis' friends are funny, and exactly the type of people he would surround himself with. He sits crosslegged next to Louis on soft cushions on the floor, their beer and some already drowned shots, standing on the small living room table.

He is talking to everyone at the same time and he doesn't feel like the odd one out, even though most of them are older than him.

It's when it's getting late and the alcohol is mostly empty that the girls come over to them and Eleanor calls out to "Spin the bottle, you losers!"

"Eleanor" Louis says, raising an eyebrow "We are not in High School anymore"

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr Uptight, I forgot you were too old to be cool" Eleanor just says and sticks his tongue out to Louis, who seems unimpressed.

Harry laughs and shoves Louis in the side "C'mon Louis, it's her birthday" he says and Louis looks at him like he just broke his trust in humanity, before sighing in defeat.

Twenty minutes in the game, when everyone is laughing about the weird pairs, the man cheering when the women have to kiss, the woman laughing their ass off, when the guys have to overcome their need to run, when they are paired with one of their fellows. When they have moved on from sweet and innocent kisses to sticking each others tongue down their throat, it's then, when his own bottle slowly stops at Louis, he wishes he just kept his fucking mouth shut.

Louis stares at him for a moment, before he shakes his head "No"

Harry tries not to show it, but his heart clenches at Louiss blatant refusal to kiss him.

"Oh, c'mon, Louis!" a guy named Ashton slurs "Look at him! He's cute! I would kiss him willingly"

Harry can't help but blush at these words, seriously, a few of Louis' friends are really weird.

Louis throws a glare at Ashton, but before he can retort anything Eleanor is interrupting him, by patting her boyfriends back "Don't be a party pooper baby" she says and kisses Louiss cheek.

Harry has to look away. This is not how he-

"Fine" Louis huffs, before the older man turns to him and says, while beckoning with his fingers "Come here"

Before he can react, before he can even get closer, Louis has already taken his chin between his fingers, directing his face towards him, until their lips are pressed together, in a forceful kiss. Harrys heart beats hard against his chest, and he clenches his eyes shut when he feels the others tongue sliding into his mouth. He tries not to feel anything, tells himself that this, their first kiss may not be like he imagined it would be, but it's probably going to be the only kiss he will ever gonna get from Louis. So he slides his hand into the others hair, feels the other sighing softly against his mouth.

And then it's over.

It's over and Louis doesn't look at him, as he leans back and the girl, Harry believes her name is Jane, already spins the bottle.

He knows that his cheeks are probably red, he feels overwhelmed with the situation, and his heart is beating so fast that his lungs, his mind can barely keep up.

He stands up then, needs a moment to himself, needs a moment away from Louis, so his head can clear, so he can organize his thoughts.

He walks into the kitchen, where the noise of the living room is barely heard. He leans against the counter, closing his eyes as he lets out a rattling breath.

Fuck, he thought he could forget, suppress or fully lose the feelings he has for Louis, thought he could just lock them away maybe, if he tried hard enough, if he just wants it bad enough, but now they are overbearing him, crashing his insides with their weight.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Louis asks, coming into the kitchen, before he chuckles "I'm sorry about them, they are too much sometimes"

No, he wants to say, he is not alright, and you are too much, and that he hasn't been alright since he met Louis, and fuck you, how dare you make him feel like there is something when there's nothing, nothing at all.

"Hey" Louis mumbles, coming closer to him, and he just wants to escape, he can't have the other near him right now "What's wrong?"

"Nothing- I- just-"

"Is this about the kiss?"

Louis just says it so easily, because with no feelings attached it must be easy for him. Harry can barely open his mouth.

"No" he eventually gets out "I would have rather kissed Ashton, that's it" he jokes then and it takes all his willpower to contain himself.

Louis doesn't smile at him like he expected him to.

"I don't believe you" he just says, and comes closer, until he is so close that Harry has to swallow hard, before he has the guts to look up at Louis.

"What are you-?"

Louis smiles at him, although he looks confused, and unsure, and everything Louis usually isn't and then Louis leans in, he leans in and Harry can feel a hand on his cheek, softly cradling his face.

His eyes flutter shut automatically, he can't help but lean in a little, just a little, until he feels Louiss hot breath on his lips and Louis murmurs "You are gonna be the death of me" against them, and then, then, it happens. Louis overcomes the last bit of distance that was between them, until his body is pushed against his, and the others lips press gently against his own.

It's the second time he gets kissed by the man he loves, but this time it actually feels right, feels good. And he sighs into the kiss, his hands resting on Louis' back, pushing him closer.

It's over as soon as it begun.

"Louis! Move your ass and get some beer from the fridge!" a woman's voice, Eleanor, yells from the living room.

Louis pushes The rain is hitting his window softly, clouds dark, as he waits for the water to boil. The little lamp in his kitchen gives a warm light, but flickers sometimes, and doesn't do much to light up the small room. He makes a mental reminder to change the light-bulb soon, before it stops working entirely.

He pushes his bangs out of his face and can't help but let out a deep sigh when he hears laughter and a "God, Bobby, stop it" from his living room.

He leans against the counter, deep in his thoughts, the old clock on the wall ticking away as his mind repeats the last few days.

Louis has a girlfriend. And as much as he wants to hate her for stealing the other man away from him, for being the person Louis loves, for just being there. He can't. Eleanor is actually a nice girl, friendly, funny, open-minded, truth be told, Harry thinks, she is absolutely wonderful. He gets what Louis sees in her. And the pink-haired girl didn't steal Louis, because even if it hurts to admit it, Louis has never been his in the first place.

Eleanor was there first. Eleanor was there before Harry even knew him. They have been together for three and a half years now. Harry is not going to be the one to try to tear them apart, even if his own heart has to suffer. He isn't even sure if he could, Louis is obviously not interested in guys, although he thought that was the case.

Now he tells himself that he only made it up in his head, maybe he desired Louis so badly, that he couldn't distinguish between Louis only being a nice friend, and someone who would want to date him. He was always told that he possessed a vivid imagination.

He lets out a frustrated sigh again and tells himself not to think about it, as he takes the water from the stove to fill the cups, pouring it over the tea bags, before adding sugar.

He walks into his living room, where Louis opened the window, because he likes hearing the rain, Harry knows.

He is sitting at his usual spot, Harrys dog lying his head in the others lap. Louis seriously wasn't joking when he said that he likes dogs.

He chuckles a little as he walks over, putting the cups on the small table, before letting himself fall against the cushions besides Louis.

"Your dog loves me" Louis says and grins at him, petting Bobby. Not only my dog, he doesn't say.

"He loves you more than me" Harry says and pouts, before a thought crosses his mind "Why don't you owe one? If you like them so much?"

"Oh, well" Louis says, and scratches the back of his head "Eleanor is allergic to dogs. Well, to all kind of animals with fur actually, so...yeah. It's just not an option"

"Ah, alright" he nods.

Louis glances at him before he bends over to pick up his cup from the table, the movement causing Bobby to lift his head from Louis' lap.

"It's Eleanor's birthday soon" Louis says then "She asks if you want to come, party is at our apartment"

"Yeah, sure" Harry shrugs, although he doesn't want to be near the two at all "I have never been at your place before"

"It's nothing special" Louis answers, taking a careful sip from his hot tea "I like your place much more"

Harry just hums, and maybe he finds it kinda weird, that Louis prefers his place over his own. His apartment is really nothing special, small, but warm and comfortable, lived in. But it's nothing to write home about. He doesn't get what Louis likes so much about it.

"Mh, do I need to get her a present?" Harry asks then, thinking it over "What does she like?"

"Food" Louis says and chuckles "She is just like you"

He doesn't find it funny, in fact, he finds it to be the worst comparison ever. But he doesn't say anything, although he is sure his emotions about it are blatantly displayed on his face.

He wants to disagree and say that Eleanor and him are nothing alike. Because she has everything he wants, and that is the biggest difference there can be.

Louis can say something, so casual and so carelessly like that and he would never know how much these simple words hurt him. He can't fault him for that though, Harry has kept his mouth shut, has never confronted Louis about Eleanor and him, and why he just didn't tell him. He doesn't get why Louis felt the need to hide his girlfriend from him.

But now, when he thinks about it, while they could talk about everything and did talk about everything, they have avoided the topic of love, sex or anything that comes close to it. Harry had just assumed, that Louis was...well, gay.

Louis doesn't even know that Harry is. He never spoke about his preference.

Not much has changed between them since he learned that Louis and his relationship can only exist on a friendly base. He made sure it didn't. He would rather stay Louiss friend, and be happy for him, then lose him because he can't keep his heart in check.

He lets out a sigh, sometimes he wishes Louis would have told him that his heart already belongs to someone, maybe he could have kept himself from falling then.

"What is it? You've been quiet today" Louis says, and sends him a worried glance. "Ah, it's just a headache" Harry smiles reassuringly "Don't worry about me"

He has always been a bad liar, but fuck, Louis is so oblivious, if he doesn't notice how he is in love with him, then he won't see through a simple lie like that.

"Can't help it" Louis answers "Want me to go so you can take a nap?"

"No" he says, maybe a little bit too quick "Stay"

Louis smiles at him, before lifting his hand to ruffle through Harry's hair, his fingers sliding through it softly and Harry looks down at his hands, tries hard to keep the blush out of his face.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" Louis sighs, more to himself than to him, and lets his hand sink slowly.

Harry lifts his eyes then, and Louis actually looks troubled.

Maybe Louis can't see through him, but the other man is not an open book for him either.

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"Your neighbor is creeping me the fuck out" Louis says, as they leave his apartment.

"Mh? Zayn? Why?" Harry says, he never had a problem with the man, quite on the contrary actually. They are really close friends, and Zayn knows what he feels for Louis, so the man's angry staring contest with Louis might result from that.

Zayn thinks Louis is a coward. Harry doesn't get it.

"He always glares at me, whenever I meet him in the hallway" Louis answers, shrugging "Not that I couldn't take him on, but..."

"Don't worry, that's just his face, he can't help it" Harry chuckles.

Louis snorts "He doesn't look that way at you or that blonde guy that always lingers in front of his door, like he isn't sure if he wants to go in or not"

Harry rolls his eyes "You mean Niall, and yes, everybody only hates you, you poor thing"

Louis shakes his head, but grins at him "That was not what I was trying to say, stupid"

"You love me" Harry says and damn it, he really has to learn to keep his mouth shut. He is embarrassed and tries to hide his face into the scarf Louis gave him once.

But Louis just shrugs "Can't deny it" he says simply and, fuck, Harry wishes. He laughs instead "C'mon, let's just eat something"

"Tony's?" Louis asks and Harry just nods in agreement, it's their favorite Italian restaurant.

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"Man, I wish I knew this restaurant sooner" Louis sighs, a content smile on his face, when they sit down at their usual seats and have already placed their order.

"Tony's the best" Harry grins.

"No doubt" the other man agrees "Thanks for introducing it to me"

"Yeah man" Harry says "You should be grateful, you weren't living your life before"

"Oh, what would I do without you?"

"Eat at fuckin' pizza hut like a big nerd"

Louis laughs then, open and free, and Harry smiles at him. He loves these moments with Louis. It's easy to pretend that there is no girlfriend then, there is no Eleanor waiting for him, there is only Louis and him at their favorite table, at their favorite restaurant, joking around, enjoying the others presence.

Maybe this is enough, maybe he doesn't need more.

When Louis says goodbye to him later, and hugs him casually, he wants to stay close to Louis, wants to bury his head in the other mans chest, wants to kiss Louis, and wants the other to go home with him. He never wants to let him go, but he has to eventually and he realizes then and there, that what they have now, will never be enough for him.

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"Harry!" Eleanor squeals, falling around his neck "Thanks for coming! I'm glad! Come in, come in!"

"Thanks for the invite" Harry smiles as she lets him go, can't help it, not when the girl is grinning so happily at him.

"I've got something for you" he says, and smiles when she claps her hands excitedly, before trusting her the two cards in her hand "Here, for you and Louis, you could go out together. Or well, you can go with a friend, or whatever, you can go alone, I don't know-"

"Is it an all you can eat gift card from the new restaurant down-town?" Eleanor asks and grins at him delighted, Harry thinks she may be slightly drunk already "Ah! We should go together, Harry! Louis is just ashamed that I eat so much" she laughs "Right, sweetie?" she calls over her back and he sees Louis coming up behind her.

"Right" Louis smiles at him, and god, he looks so good. With his black jeans and simple white shirt, it's enough to make him look casually stunning.

Eleanor goes back to the other guests with an "Look what I got motherfuckers!" waving her new present and Harry can't help but let out a laugh.

"I'm glad you came" Louis says, taking his jacket when Harry shrugs it off.

"Wouldn't have missed it" Harry says and smiles when Louis puts a hand on his back to lead him into the living room.

There are already people mingling here and there, he notices how most of the men are sitting on the spacious couch and the armchairs and the girls sitting at a rather big dining room table. There is music in the background, and alcohol is located on both tables, the noise of excited conversation is filling the room.

Louis' apartment, is well, big. And the more he looks around, he finds it's the complete opposite of his own. His is always a little messy, cluttered with things, photos of his friends decorating the wall, red and orange dominating his place. Louis' own home is clean, wide open spaces, it looks expensive, organized, the walls are white and just here and there are abstract paintings hanging on the wall. There are no photos of Louis and Eleanor to be found, not even of some friends, making the whole place seem impersonal.

Harry is a little bit surprised, he thought with a woman living here too, that everything would be a little bit more lovingly furnished.

And although the whole place is heated and warm enough to walk around in a shirt, everything still seems cold somehow.

If Louis likes to live so neatly, how can he like Harry's home so much?

"Nice place" he says, although he never felt more uncomfortable, but he doesn't know if that is because of the apartment, or because he knows Eleanor is here.

"Thanks" Louis answers, but if the raised eyebrow is any indication, he knows that Harry is just exchanging pleasantries.

"How come you never invited me here before? We always hang around at my place" It's a reasonable question, Harry thinks.

Louis seems to think about it, but then just says jokingly "Because of Bobby, obviously"

Harry laughs and lets it go.

After Louis introduces him to his friends, as "the guy I met in the park, that I told you about", he feels the uncomfortable feeling slowly ebbing away. Louis' friends are funny, and exactly the type of people he would surround himself with. He sits crosslegged next to Louis on soft cushions on the floor, their beer and some already drowned shots, standing on the small living room table.

He is talking to everyone at the same time and he doesn't feel like the odd one out, even though most of them are older than him.

It's when it's getting late and the alcohol is mostly empty that the girls come over to them and Eleanor calls out to "Spin the bottle, you losers!"

"Eleanor" Louis says, raising an eyebrow "We are not in High School anymore"

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr Uptight, I forgot you were too old to be cool" Eleanor just says and sticks his tongue out to Louis, who seems unimpressed.

Harry laughs and shoves Louis in the side "C'mon Louis, it's her birthday" he says and Louis looks at him like he just broke his trust in humanity, before sighing in defeat.

Twenty minutes in the game, when everyone is laughing about the weird pairs, the man cheering when the women have to kiss, the woman laughing their ass off, when the guys have to overcome their need to run, when they are paired with one of their fellows. When they have moved on from sweet and innocent kisses to sticking each others tongue down their throat, it's then, when his own bottle slowly stops at Louis, he wishes he just kept his fucking mouth shut.

Louis stares at him for a moment, before he shakes his head "No"

Harry tries not to show it, but his heart clenches at Louiss blatant refusal to kiss him.

"Oh, c'mon, Louis!" a guy named Ashton slurs "Look at him! He's cute! I would kiss him willingly"

Harry can't help but blush at these words, seriously, a few of Louis' friends are really weird.

Louis throws a glare at Ashton, but before he can retort anything Eleanor is interrupting him, by patting her boyfriends back "Don't be a party pooper baby" she says and kisses Louiss cheek.

Harry has to look away. This is not how he-

"Fine" Louis huffs, before the older man turns to him and says, while beckoning with his fingers "Come here"

Before he can react, before he can even get closer, Louis has already taken his chin between his fingers, directing his face towards him, until their lips are pressed together, in a forceful kiss. Harrys heart beats hard against his chest, and he clenches his eyes shut when he feels the others tongue sliding into his mouth. He tries not to feel anything, tells himself that this, their first kiss may not be like he imagined it would be, but it's probably going to be the only kiss he will ever gonna get from Louis. So he slides his hand into the others hair, feels the other sighing softly against his mouth.

And then it's over.

It's over and Louis doesn't look at him, as he leans back and the girl, Harry believes her name is Jane, already spins the bottle.

He knows that his cheeks are probably red, he feels overwhelmed with the situation, and his heart is beating so fast that his lungs, his mind can barely keep up.

He stands up then, needs a moment to himself, needs a moment away from Louis, so his head can clear, so he can organize his thoughts.

He walks into the kitchen, where the noise of the living room is barely heard. He leans against the counter, closing his eyes as he lets out a rattling breath.

Fuck, he thought he could forget, suppress or fully lose the feelings he has for Louis, thought he could just lock them away maybe, if he tried hard enough, if he just wants it bad enough, but now they are overbearing him, crashing his insides with their weight.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Louis asks, coming into the kitchen, before he chuckles "I'm sorry about them, they are too much sometimes"

No, he wants to say, he is not alright, and you are too much, and that he hasn't been alright since he met Louis, and fuck you, how dare you make him feel like there is something when there's nothing, nothing at all.

"Hey" Louis mumbles, coming closer to him, and he just wants to escape, he can't have the other near him right now "What's wrong?"

"Nothing- I- just-"

"Is this about the kiss?"

Louis just says it so easily, because with no feelings attached it must be easy for him. Harry can barely open his mouth.

"No" he eventually gets out "I would have rather kissed Ashton, that's it" he jokes then and it takes all his willpower to contain himself.

Louis doesn't smile at him like he expected him to.

"I don't believe you" he just says, and comes closer, until he is so close that Harry has to swallow hard, before he has the guts to look up at Louis.

"What are you-?"

Louis smiles at him, although he looks confused, and unsure, and everything Louis usually isn't and then Louis leans in, he leans in and Harry can feel a hand on his cheek, softly cradling his face.

His eyes flutter shut automatically, he can't help but lean in a little, just a little, until he feels Louiss hot breath on his lips and Louis murmurs "You are gonna be the death of me" against them, and then, then, it happens. Louis overcomes the last bit of distance that was between them, until his body is pushed against his, and the others lips press gently against his own.

It's the second time he gets kissed by the man he loves, but this time it actually feels right, feels good. And he sighs into the kiss, his hands resting on Louis' back, pushing him closer.

It's over as soon as it begun.

"Louis! Move your ass and get some beer from the fridge!" a woman's voice, Eleanor, yells from the living room.

Louis pushes away from him then, wide eyed. And he doesn't say anything to him, just looks down for a moment, before he shakes his head at himself, and Harry can already see the regret in the others face.

"Hey" he whispers, and he lifts his hand to put it on the others chest "Hey, you-" But Louis takes a step further away from him "I'm not-"

"Yeah, I know" Harry just says and with these words he lets Louis off the hook. Gives Louis the opportunity to ignore what just happened.

Louis simply nods and he still looks so troubled, so uncertain in his actions, and then he moves to take the beer out of the fridge before leaving Harry alone in the kitchen.

He lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and fuck, the pain is too much to hide, so he just lets out a desperate noise and burrows his face in his hands.

When he comes back he sees Louis at Eleanors side and jealousy crashes over him like a wave and he can't breath for a moment, but he can't look away either, even if Louis doesn't meet his eyes.

away from him then, wide eyed. And he doesn't say anything to him, just looks down for a moment, before he shakes his head at himself, and Harry can already see the regret in the others face.

"Hey" he whispers, and he lifts his hand to put it on the others chest "Hey, you-" But Louis takes a step further away from him "I'm not-"

"Yeah, I know" Harry just says and with these words he lets Louis off the hook. Gives Louis the opportunity to ignore what just happened.

Louis simply nods and he still looks so troubled, so uncertain in his actions, and then he moves to take the beer out of the fridge before leaving Harry alone in the kitchen.

He lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and fuck, the pain is too much to hide, so he just lets out a desperate noise and burrows his face in his hands.

When he comes back he sees Louis at Eleanors side and jealousy crashes over him like a wave and he can't breath for a moment, but he can't look away either, even if Louis doesn't meet his eyes.


	3. CAN'T PRETEND ANYMORE

He doesn't stay long at the party after the incident in the kitchen, the fear of losing the control of his emotions too big.

He leans his head against the window, where the rain drops against and slides down, the taxi drives him through the night, jazz music playing on the radio.

He sighs, feeling lose at the seams and can't help but hate himself a little for checking his phone to see if Louis send him a message. Usually Louis asks him if he got home safe or if he is still on his way and wishes him a good night. There is no message though and even if he didn't expect one, not after what happened, it still breaks something inside of him then.

He shakes his head at himself, putting his phone back. Something unimportant like a that shouldn't hurt him so much.

Someone once told him that, when you're in love even the smallest things can break a person, back then he didn't get it, and now that he does, he wishes he never understood at all.

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He hasn't heard from Louis since Friday, it's kind of frustrating, the silence weighing him down. They used to text each other throughout the day, but now? Nothing. No text, no call, no surprised "I've bought Pizza" - visit. And god, isn't it sad how Harry already misses him? How he stares at his phone like his glare can somehow reach Louis through it? How he spend the last nights wide awake thinking about the scenario in the kitchen?

He feels pathetic.

And now, standing at their bench, rain dripping down the edges of his umbrella, waiting for a man that probably isn't going to come, doesn't help.

It's Wednesday and maybe he thought, hoped, that Louis would be there. Because he hasn't called to cancel, hasn't said anything. Harry just assumed that they were going to meet at their usual place again. No such luck though. He feels like kicking the stupid bench.

Absolutely and completely pathetic.

If he is honest with himself, he can't even be angry at Louis. It's his own fault. The other was probably just messing with him anyway, kidding around, and then, maybe surprised that Harry was so into it. He wants to slap himself for his stupidity. Louis was probably not in his right mind, and he was well... not that drunk at all. He should have stopped him, he knows, but fuck, with the other pressing himself against him, kissing him like he is the only one worth kissing, like he has been desperate to do so, he just couldn't stop himself from letting Louis do as he pleases. If the other man blames him now, he can't really fault him for that.

He looks at his phone, the other should have been here 20 minutes ago. He knows Louis is usually overly punctual. He sighs and makes his way home.

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"Stop your depressive sighing" Zayn says, as he looks through the CD's "You're putting me in a bad mood"

"I am in a bad mood" Harry huffs.

They are at the mall right now. Usually his Wednesdays are reserved for spending time with Louis, but now he doesn't see why he should mope around at home, when he could hang out with Zayn. While the other is a good friend, he is really shitty at giving advice to people, but it's nice to talk to someone about his problems with Louis anyways. Even if Zayn just hums at the right times, he knows the other is listening.

"Yeah, I know" the man says, before ruffling through his hair "Lets grab some coffee, alright?"

"Alright" he sighs again, and Zayn throws him a pointed look.

"I want a milkshake, though" he says after a moment, ignoring the others glance.

They walk through the crowd then, and Zayn talks about his job at the town's middle-school and how he teaches the kids to start with kendo, even though he should play something like Basketball with them in P.E., and how he doesn't give a shit about Basketball and the headmaster should just fuck off. Harry laughs now and then starts talking about how he always liked Baseball the most.

He knows Zayn is just talking so much, so he doesn't get enough room in his head to think about Louis. He doesn't think he can stop that though, Louis is always on his mind, but Harry appreciates the effort.

When he lets out a loud laugh after Zayn states how the headmaster could shove the basketballs up his ass, for all he cares, it's then, that he sees them and his laugh dies instantly in his throat.

"Oh, no" Harry mumbles and Zayn asks "What?"

He points to Louis and Eleanor, walking towards them, Eleanor excitingly talking, holding a slice of pizza in one hand, and Louis' in her other. His heart sinks instantly at the sight and he swallows hard.

"Let's just walk in the other direction before he notices-" he says tensely and tries to tear his eyes away from the pair. But it's too late then. Louis has already seen him, met his eyes over the distance, before quickly looking away, obviously choosing to ignore him. If Harry is honest with himself, he never thought blatant rejection could hurt so much.

He sees how Louis tries to get Eleanor to walk the other way, away from them, but the brown haired girl has already seen them and soon starts calling out his name, while waving at them. She then proceeds to walk towards them, pulling Louis after her, who looks like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Oh, no" Harry repeats, but tries to smile, lifting his hand in greeting, before he feels a strong arm sliding around his waist, fingers gripping his hip "What-? Zayn?"

The black haired man just grins down at him, pulling his body even closer to his side "Just trust me"

Before he can retort anything, Eleanor and Louis are already in front of him.

God, he hates to admit it, but they look so good together. Louis' dark and kinda dangerous look, paired with Eleanors colorful appearance just really makes them stand out. Although, he thinks, Louis probably doesn't need Eleanor to draw attention.

"Hey, Harry! Nice to see you!" she smiles, a little out of breath from trying to get to them so fast.

He doesn't really look at her, his eyes fixed at Louis' face who looks uncomfortable and doesn't even look at them, his gaze sliding through the crowd.

He looks as disinterested as can be.

"Who's your friend?" she asks then, still grinning, as her eyes wander to Zayn's arm around his waist.

"That's Zayn, we're neighbors" Harry answers, quickly tearing his eyes away from Louis, to look Eleanor in the eyes.

"Nice to meet you" the girl smiles, shaking Zayn's hand "So what are you two up to this rainy Wednesday...?"

"We're just-"

"We are on a date" Zayn interrupts, and Harry nearly chokes on his breath.

He feels Louis' gaze on him instantly, his piercing look, and he feels a blush spreading across his face, before he can help it. What the hell is Zayn thinking? He basically just officially outed him, god, why would he-? Harry actually feels anger bubbling up inside of him, but tries to swallow it. Zayn said to trust him, so he just plays along and forces a smile on his face before nodding.

Eleanor looks shocked for a moment, but she pulls herself together quickly "So you are gay? I didn't know that" she says bluntly, before looking at Louis "Honey, did you knew that?"

"No" Louis just answers, and still, Harry doesn't dare to look at him. Fuck, this is going to change everything.

"It's not a big deal" Harry just says and shrugs his shoulders. But it is, it's a huge deal and his and Louis' relationship may never be the same, even if they work out the problems they have now, they will never function the same way as before. His heart clenches a bit, as the realization of that hits him.

He wants to get out of Zayn's hold, feels the strong need to push the other away just to explain. But what would he say anyway? What could he possibly say to change anything?

He bites his lip and keeps silent when Eleanor remarks that they look cute together. After that they just chat for a while, until Louis says that they probably should get going.

They bid their goodbyes and when he is certain the couple is out of ear-shot he turns towards the black haired man before pushing himself out of Zayn's hold

"What the fuck?" he spits, but the other just lets out a loud laugh.

"What's so funny? God! This was awkward as hell!" Harry says, desperately. This just ruined everything.

"You don't get it, do you?" Zayn asks, still trying not to laugh, before gesturing in the direction Louis and Eleanor walked off to "He was really irritated...and so confused, god, hilarious"

"What?!"

Zayn snorts "Were you so concentrated on being embarrassed that you didn't even notice the glares he shot at me?"

"I-" Harry says, before shaking his head "You got it all wrong"

"Me?" Zayn answers, before laughing "No, it's you who doesn't get it" "No, look, he-"

"I don't know what his problem is" Zayn interrupts him and starts walking again "But he really didn't like the thought of you going out with me, sure, I can't read minds, but that much was obvious"

Harry is silent for a while. He doesn't really get it and it's all a mess in his brain anyways. The encounter with Louis just left him shaken and confused, Zayn with his far fetched theories doesn't make it any better.

He lets out a deep sigh, before he links arms with Zayn, who looks down at him, lifting an eyebrow, confusion evident in his face.

Harry grins up at him and says jokingly "We're on a date, aren't we?" Zayn laughs then "We are"

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He walks into his kitchen, the light-bulb still flickering over his head, and Harry glares at it.

"Yeah, yeah" he mumbles to himself, "Gotta get a new one, I know" he sighs then, before leaning against his kitchen counter, while he waits for the water to boil.

He looks to the side, where the small window is located, but the darkness of the night prevents him from seeing anything but his own reflection.

It's late at night, the sound of the rain hitting against the window fills the room and even with Zayn sitting in his living room, he feels lonely.

"Shit" he curses out of pure frustration. It could have been different, he thinks, taking the hot water from the stove, before filling a cup with it, putting a teabag and sugar in. It could have been different, if he didn't let himself fall for Louis. If he wouldn't have been stupid enough to believe there would ever be a chance for them to be something more, he wouldn't be hurting right now.

He clenches his eyes shut, letting out a deep sigh, before taking a beer can out of his fridge for the black haired man.

This is the worst.

And Zayn wasn't helping the situation at all.

He gets back to his living room where Zayn is sitting on the couch, Bobby in his lab and Harry has to smile a bit. It just reminds him a little of Louis, that is all.

He shakes his head at himself, making his way over to thrust Zayn the can in his hand.

"Thanks" Zayn says, before opening it and taking a sip. Harry just nods, and lets himself sit beside him.

"It's stormy outside" he mumbles, as he hears thunder from afar.

"Mh?" Zan lifts an eyebrow "Darling," he says then, smirking at him and Harry rolls his eyes, "Are you scared?"

He gives Zayn a light shove "I'm not, idiot. In fact, I kinda like them"

He gets pulled out of his thoughts when the doorbell rings. He blinks, tea cup still in his hands as he moves up to open the door.

"Who's that?" Zayn asks from behind him and Harry can't answer because- It's Louis. Standing in front of him, dripping wet, is Louis.

He feels his breath get stuck in his throat and he nearly lets his cup slide out of his hands.

"Hey" the taller man says, "Can I come in?"

"Uhm," Harry tarts, intelligently, before taking a step to the side "ah, uh-, sure"

"Thanks" Louis says, looking around the room until his gaze lands on Zayn, his expression hardens, but he stays silent, not commenting on the fact that the other man is here, late at night.

Zayn just eyes him warily, while Louis starts taking his coat off to throw it over one of the chairs and says casually "Nasty weather, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it" Louis answers drily, brown hair still dripping droplets of rain on his wet face, Harry has to chuckle a little. Louis looks like a wet dog.

"Got caught in it, I should have taken my umbrella with me"

"I'm gonna get you a towel" Harry says, putting his tea cup on the table before making his way to the bathroom. When he gets there, he closes the door and leans against it just to take a moment to himself, taking a deep breath, trying to get the thoughts running through his mind into the right order. Just Louis' presence is making him nervous and he feels silly, he shakes his head at himself, his hand sliding against the wooden door. Louis shouldn't get his heart beating like this.

The feelings he has for Louis are nothing new to him, but he never felt so weighed down by them like he does now. They're just a burden he has been carrying around in his heart.

When he comes back with a towel, Zayn has left, and Louis is standing in his living room, looking kind of lost. His heart clenches a little bit at the sight, only a few weeks ago, Louis felt completely at ease and comfortable in his home. What changed?

Did he let his love for the other man come in between them so much, that Louis can't even feel content in what he considered his favorite place to be?

"He left" Louis says, unnecessarily and nods as a thank you when Harry gives him the soft towel.

"I see" Harry just answers, sitting down on the couch, taking his cup from the table again.

He doesn't know what to do with Louis, now that he is standing in front of him.

Why is he even here anyways? He didn't even care to look at him when they met at the mall, and now he is in his living room, drying his hair and face with a towel.

"Sit down" Harry says, because he doesn't know what else to say and he feels awkward with Louis standing in the room like that.

"My jeans is...well..kind of.." Louis just mumbles, fingers tapping against the wet denim of his pants "Don't want to get your couch-"

"I don't mind" Harry interrupts, and watches how Louis sits down.

"Sorry for interrupting your...date" Louis says, looking at Bobby who has curled up under the small living room table.

Harry blinks a little, and again, he doesn't really now what Louis is thinking. He can't read Louis' voice, can't read his expression and he feels a little helpless, because what is he supposed to say now? Should he tell Louis that Zayn was just kidding? That he is not dating anybody? Or should he just play along?

Louis pulls him back out of his thoughts, before Harry can even try to answer "What was he even doing here...so late at night?"

Harry furrows his brows, and he studies Louis' face, who's now looking at him, irritation evident in his face, confusion leaking through his voice "I mean..." Louis says then, and his hands splay out over his still wet jeans, fingers sliding over the denim of his thigh "You weren't going to...?"

"...What?" Harry asks then, when Louis doesn't end the sentence.

"Never mind" Louis answers, hastily, eyes sliding back to the window, where the rain is still hitting against.

Harry hears the threatening sound of thunder and he feels the need to open the window just a little bit, because he knows Louis likes hearing the rain, likes the sound of nature raging outside, when he is inside. Safe.

But he doesn't, too focused on the situation he has to manage now. "I don't want you to date Zayn"

His eyes widen, his fingers clutching desperately at the tea cup, afraid of letting it fall. What is Louis getting at? Is Louis trying to tell him he doesn't like him being gay? Or that he doesn't like Zayn?

Or is Louis jealous?

He shakes his head at himself, quickly trying to get his mind from going in that direction. Louis is not like himself, Louis has a girlfriend, has a steady relationship, there is no way the other man would ever feel something like jealousy because of him dating another man.

"I-" he starts and he wants to say, that he isn't dating Zayn, that they were just joking, that they should forget the kiss they shared in Louis' kitchen, the best kiss he might ever get, even if it hurts him. He wants to apologize for not telling him sooner about his sexual orientation, for not telling the truth. He doesn't get any of that over his lips though, his mouth forms one word before he can even comprehend that he has said it.

"Why?"

Louis looks at him then, a tattooed hand sliding through his, still slightly wet hair "You two don't fit together"

Harry lifts one eyebrow, ready to counter that argument but Louis says quickly "I mean, he is all serious, and you are just that happy and easy going guy, I just don't-"

"You are all serious too, and we are friends" They are still friends, right?

"Yes" Louis says, and he looks irritated "But he is too old for you"

"Huh? He is only two years older...yours and Eleanor's age difference is much bigger" Harry says, and he's really getting confused now. What is Louis' problem?

"Don't compare us" Louis grits out, before saying "Zayn seems like a jerk"

"You don't even know him" Harry replies and he puts the cup back on the table now. The tea now cold anyway.

"But you do?" Louis snaps then, and Harry flinches a little at Louis raising his voice, surprised to see the other man getting angry beside him. He is used to see Louis calm and collected, but the other looks like he can barely contain himself.

"I-" Harry starts, but stops himself then, because he doesn't even know what he should say. Doesn't know what Louis wants him to say.

"You what?" Louis asks then, and he stands up, Harry sees Bobby lift his head alarmingly at the sudden movement, and Harry makes a soothing noise to tell him it's alright, before he stands up too, feeling too small, being stared down by the taller man.

"I don't...I don't know, okay?" Harry says then, and he watches how Louis takes a step closer to him, he takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, because he can't read Louis right now, and it's kind of scaring him a little. He thought he has seen all of Louiss facets, but he has never seen him like that.

"There's a lot you don't know" Louis replies, and shakes his head "I don't even get it myself, but I-" he stops himself, still coming closer to him, until Harry feels the hard wooden door pressing against his back. Until Louis is cornering him.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say" Harry answers then, his voice shakes a little, because it's the truth, and he can't think straight, not with Louis so close to him. He closes his eyes, the others presence feels overwhelming to him, and he is sure his heart is ready to burst out of his chest.

"You-" he starts, but then he feels a hand on his cheek, and he opens his eyes, just to find blue ones staring back at him. He swallows hard, can not help it, his eyes flickering down to the others lips, and he tries to wrap his head around it, because fuck, fuck, what is this? Why is Louis acting like this? Why is he this close to him? Can't he see how confusing this is to him? How he can barely breath? How everything is too much for him?

How he can not stop himself from wanting Louis?

He tries to remember how to breath, when Louis leans down towards his face. A single water droplet trickles down on his face from a strand of Louis' brown hair, his mind flashes in red warning lights, and screams at him to get the fuck away from the man who is about to kiss him

Who already has someone to love. "Louis-"

Louis' hand moves up, grabbing the back of his head, and the kiss is crushing like he doesn't want them to say words that are inadequate. Harry kisses him back, feeling torn open, closer to Louis than he has ever felt to anyone before and he realizes then and there, that's where he wants to keep him. Close. At the core. He wants Louis to know the things he used to tell his sister, all the secrets he has, he wants Louis to be the one. He wants him.

Louis presses him against the door, body flush against his own, and Harry can't help but whine low in his throat at the feeling. Louis' finger slides softly through his hair, and Harry lets his hands rest on Louis' back, fingers clenching in the others damp shirt.

He gasps when he feels Louis slide one of his legs in between his own, and the other uses this opportunity to slide his tongue into his mouth, meeting his own in a hot kiss. Harry feels his heart beat hard against his chest, his breath coming heavy, his head a mess.

They are making a mistake, Harry knows, but fuck, it's hard to escape the feeling spreading through his body, making his heart beat like thunder.

Too much.

He pushes his hands against Louis' chest and turns his head to the side, breaking the kiss. His breathing heavy, as he forces himself to look at the other man.

"What about Eleanor?"

Louis raises an eyebrow, and he looks troubled for a moment, just a moment, maybe, before he pushes close to him again, and Harry feels his breath, hot against his lips, feels the wooden door, hard against his back, hears the thunder growling outside.

"Forget her for now, will you?" the words are mumbled against his lips.

And Harry closes his eyes again, and lets himself have this moment. This moment where he can pretend that Eleanor doesn't exist, that he is the only one for Louis, just as much as he is for him.

He lets himself have this moment, because he knows, he might never get it again.


	4. LOVE ON THE SIDE

They tumble backwards, exchanging kisses, hands roaming. Harry can't tell where is up and down, what is right and what is wrong. His head is spinning and his mind is still screaming at him. But. But, this, this is it. This is what he wants, wants Louis in every way possible, and he doesn't care, he just can't give a fuck anymore. Not when his heart is nearly bursting out of his chest, when it's beating so quickly, out of happiness, adrenalin, because everything is slowly coming together, because this is what he lets himself have after everything, because of love. Because of Louis.

The moment is ruined though, when he pushes against Louis' chest, and the other moves backwards, not breaking their kiss, when they try to get to his couch, it's then that Louis hits the lamp standing next to the couch, and it falls down, with a loud clang, and as the glass breaks, shatters on the floor, they break apart as well.

Louis pushes him away, as if the sound was a wake up call to him, puts distance between them, and his eyes are wide, and he wipes his hands over his mouth and Harry just stares, because fuck, what now? Louis looks like a deer in headlights, like he can't even comprehend what he just did, even if he started it all and fuck.

He started it, and Harry is not going to let Louis get away with it again. He's not going to pretend it didn't happen, he won't be this nice again just to be ignored after. No, not again. He's gonna fight for it now. If he has to, if Louis makes him.

They are breathing heavily and Harry clenches his fist, can't help but feel afraid of what is to come.

The thunder is still growling outside, rain still hitting his windows and then Louis says, "I'm not," and the confusion is blatant on his face "I'm not like you"

He doesn't say anything, waits for what Louis has to say.

"I don't kiss guys, I don't-" Louis says and then he laughs, disbelievingly, shaking his head "Fuck, what the hell has gotten into me?!"

And it's like Harry has known it would come to that, he is not surprised at Louis' statement nor at his outburst, so he just chuckles bitterly, without humor and speaks his thoughts.

"I knew it" he says, while Louis tries to flatten his shirt.

"Knew what?" the taller man says, his hands stopping, and he looks like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

He tries to appear nonchalant, although his heart is racing. "That you are freaking out"

"Don't try and analyze me" Louis snaps, taking his coat from the chair, and then "I gotta go"

"No" Harry says, moving in front of the door, so Louis doesn't even get a chance to reach the doorknob. He is not going to let Louis leave now. He won't make this easy for him. He is being selfish now, but fuck it, he can be as selfish as he fucking wants to be. And maybe he is, just a little, when it comes to Louis, he is selfish. He tried thinking that he is not, that he won't come between Louis and Eleanor, but fuck it, fuck it now, because his own happiness is just as important, and if he has to be a little bit selfish now, then so be it.

"It pisses you off, doesn't it" he says, because it's the truth, behind Louis' blatant desperation and confusion there is also anger. He can see it clearly in the others dark eyes "That you want to kiss me, it pisses you off"

"Shut the fuck up" Louis snarls and his tone is cold, but not steady at all. He gets under Louis' skin, and that is reason enough not to give up now.

"Calm down" he says, because he doesn't want him to get mad, even more than he already is, he wants to take Louis apart, he wants to know what makes him tick, what he thinks about him, if he even thinks about him, because Louis never leaves his mind, and it would only be fair.

If he can't get Louis out of his head, Louis is not supposed to get rid of him either.

Louis doesn't say anything, he groans in frustration and tries to move past him, but he stands in front of the doorknob, and he doesn't plan on leaving. Doesn't plan on letting Louis go.

"Let's talk about it" Harry says, and although he has so much to say, wants to spill his heart, he knows he is not going to, not now, this conversation is not about him, but about Louis.

"There is nothing to talk about" Louis mumbles, and he sighs defeated "I'm not gay, Harry"

He lets out a deep breath, calming himself down, after the kiss, the passion, they just shared, he knows Louis is just lying to himself.

"Closetcase" he says, and maybe he shouldn't have, because Louis' brows furrow angrily.

"What did you just say?" his voice trembles.

"You heard me"

He won't back down now, he will force Louis to admit it.

"You kissed me" he says now, fuck, this is the only way, he needs to confront Louis about it, or he will never have peace, his mind will always ask what if ,if he can't be upfront about it now "Twice" he adds, "You told me to forget about your girlfriend, fuck, Louis, do you even-"

"This doesn't make me a fag" Louis snaps, but his voice sounds feeble, pleading "Don't make it more than it is"

His heart stops then, for a moment.

His whole being yearns for the other man and he is telling him not to make a big deal out if it?! He kissed him twice, he gave him the feeling that there is something, and now he is here, standing in his living room, and tries to tell him that he should not take their kiss seriously? That he shouldn't take Louis' words, or his actions serious? Is that what he wants to say?

"Go home" he says then, defeated, and moves away from the door, because he can barely stand looking at Louis. With the other disregarding him like that, so easily, all the fight has left him.

"I-" Louis starts, but Harry interrupts "Don't"

"No, you-, sorry, I-" Louis shakes his head, and Harry never saw someone so shaken and confused "I just don't know what to do"

Yeah, Harry thinks, same.

"I love Eleanor" Louis mumbles then, and Harry can't help but flinch a little at the words and he looks at the floor, trying to hide his hurt expression. It hurt him. Hearing those words, coming from Louis, spoken with so much sincerity, that Harry has now doubt that the other is speaking the truth, it hurt him, and he can't remember how to breath.

"So why do I want you?" Louis sounds utterly helpless.

Harry holds his breath, this is not what he expected Louis to say. Not what he expected at all.

He wants him? Him? All of him? Or just his body? Is it lust or love that drives Louis towards him? Is it mere curiosity how it would feel to fuck a guy? What is Louis thinking?

"I-" he starts, shaking his head at himself, because he doesn't really know what to say, but he just starts talking anyway, the silence between them unbearable, and he feels the strong need to break it. "I think, you should try to figure it out"

"Yeah," Louis says, nodding "Give me a few days...to sort myself out"

Harry nods, keeps his head down, his heart hurting, but startles when he feels a hand ruffling softly through his black hair as Louis walks past him and out of the door, closing it behind him.

Harry leans against it, letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He realized, he wants Louis in any way he can get him, he will take anything he can get. He never lost his heart to someone like that, and he never felt so weak in his life.

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He hasn't heard from Louis in 23 days. 23 days without a single word or text, 23 days without Louis.

He has been waiting, has been waiting for the other to show himself in front of his door, or even at their bench, but the other isn't coming and he feels stupid for ever believing Louis would choose him, or even think about it seriously.

Why would Louis throw his relationship away for someone like him? Why would he? Eleanor is a wonderful girl and he is just...a guy.

And there is the problem, that he is, in fact, a guy.

He sighs sadly, maybe he should give Louis more time, maybe he should just go there and tell Louis that he doesn't want to see him anymore. He would wait a million years for him, but...he doesn't think he can be happy that way...waiting for someone like that. It's not like him. He can't put closure on the matter, if he still has hope.

It's getting December and he watches the snow falling down on the outside of his window, this is the coldest and loneliest winter he has ever known.

"I miss you" he mumbles to himself, before walking back to his couch, letting himself lie down, head propped up against the soft cushions. He sees Bobby curiously lifting his head under the table, and he smiles a little, before tapping his stomach and his dog jumps up to curl up against him, head resting on his chest and Harry lets his hand pet Bobby absently.

Maybe Louis really just needs more time...

Harry shakes his head at himself, he is just desperately clutching at straws now, trying to find a reason to hope.

He gives Louis until evening to reach him somehow, and if he doesn't...Harry will put an end to it. Will tell Louis, that whatever they had, is over. He quickly blinks away the tears that have gathered behind his eyelids before they have a chance to slide down. He will not let himself cry over it, he is stronger than that.

He lets out a groan in frustration, and stares at his phone lying on the table and tells himself, that surely, today is going to be the day, where Louis is going to write him.

He doesn't want to admit that Louis and his relationship, be it a platonic one or otherwise, has ended.

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"If you are not coming back I will assume that he is making sweet, sweet love to you in his big ass, overly pretentious, apartment, alright?" 

Harry rolls his eyes "That's not going to happen"

"I'm just saying" Zayn says, parking his car near Louis' apartment complex "I won't wait the whole night for you"

"It won't take that long, don't worry" he says, moving to get out of the others car. "Kay" Zayn says "I'm gonna wait then"

"Thanks" he smiles.

"Hey, Harry" Zayn starts, and he turns around just before he slams the door shut "It's gonna be alright, you hear me?"

He breaths out "Yeah"

He lifts his hand nervously, standing in front of Louis' and Eleanor's apartment and he can't help but feel a lump in his throat, before ringing the doorbell. 

It took him all day to even get here, and now, in the evening, he thought he would be prepared but he is seriously not ready to have that conversation with Louis, he doesn't think he ever will, nobody is ready to get their heart broken.

He takes a deep breath, just before the door opens, and Louis stands there, his eyes wide in surprise, as he utters out a "Oh, hello"

"Hey" he breaths, and he wants to apologize for coming uninvited, wants to say sorry for wanting Louis so much that he just couldn't wait. For being so impatient. "Can I come in? Or are you busy?"

"No, not at all" Louis mumbles, stepping aside to let Harry into his apartment.

It's just as cold and empty as he remembers it, and without all the people here like last time, maybe even more so.

"Eleanor's not here?" he asks and hopes his voice is as casual as can be.

"She has night shift at Pizza Hut" Louis says, as he takes his jacket "You want coffee? Or tea?"

"I'm good" he mumbles, trying to find something to say, but now that he is here, he feels a little lost.

"I don't have much time" he adds then "Zayn is waiting in the car for me, he-" "Zayn?" Louis asks, and his expression changes "You still go on dates with him?"

Oh yeah, he nearly forgot that Louis thought he had a date with the black haired man.

"No" he just says "We are friends"

Louis just hums as an answer, and it's awkward between them, a thick tension is hanging in the air and he can nearly feel it crashing down.

He tells himself to get to the point as quickly as possible, like a band-aid you have to rip off as fast as you can, so it doesn't hurt as much. He doesn't think it will work in this situation, though.

"This," he motions between them "is not going to work, is it?" he asks, his heart is beating rapidly in his chest.

"What?" Louis asks, clearly shocked at Harry's words, and then he frowns "What are you trying to say?"

"I don't think-" Harry starts, and the words feel heavy on his tongue "I don't think I want to see you anymore"

"What?!" Louis repeats again, obviously having problems trying to catch up. Harry starts shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts, this is hard for him.

His mind keeps telling him to go through with it, but his heart is still desperately clinging onto Louis.

"It's just..I don't see how it will work out" Harry says, and his voice shakes a little "You don't know what you want, heck, you think you are straight and-"

"I am straight" Louis interrupts angrily and Harry rolls his eyes, before going on "You keep kissing me, and looking at me like that and acting like I'm so important to you and I just..." he trails off, before taking a deep breath, Louis still looking like he doesn't know what to do. "I can't keep on hoping again and again, because you feel like kissing me out of nowhere just to push me away"

"I thought you would give me time!" Louis snaps, angrily, taking a step forwards him.

"I have!" Harry says, raising his voice to match Louis'.

"It's not enough!" Louis says then, and Harry can see the desperation on his face "It's hard alright?! I don't know what I want"

"Look, I know what a straight man freaking out looks like and you've got all the symptoms, so why not just accept it for what it is?"

"Don't" Louis grits out, obviously not liking what Harry is implying "I've got a mature, loving and a fucking nice relationship and it's pissing you the hell off, isn't it?!"

"No" he corrects Louis, because, seriously? He has been nothing but nice to Eleanor, and then "I'm pissed off because you can't take responsibility for your actions. That you think you can go around avoiding me and-"

"I'm trying!" Louis snaps then, fists clenching at his side "I'm trying to get it into my brain that I want you!"

Silence.

They are both breathing heavily, and Harry can't wrap his head around what Louis just said. Again. He told him that 23 days ago, and nothing had changed.

He tries to say something, but Louis doesn't let him, closing the gap between them to kiss him hard.

He pushes his hands to Louis' chest immediately, trying to move his face to the side, to break the bruising kiss because, fuck, he won't let himself be kissed just to be avoided after. It's not how it works anymore, he won't let his heart win the battle against his mind, it will only hurt him. All his choices just left him miserable, and fuck, he just wants the heavy feeling in his chest to go the fuck away.

Louis' hand moves to his face, to hold him in place, while the other finds the hem of his shirt, sliding across his bare skin, his hand warm and nice and he can't help but arch into it.

God.

He takes all his strength to push Louis away then, and the other stumbles backwards, back hitting the wall. Louis' eyes are dark and his expression shows the barely contained want.

He moves his hand to his mouth, feeling flushed, and he shakes his head quickly "No, not again"

"You don't say no to me" Louis says, and he presses right back into Harry's space, and he can feel how Louis' hands curls around his hip, thump brushing his skin.

His breath hitches when the taller man moves to press his crotch right against his own, Louis looks so angry, nearly livid, and his gaze is hungry and swirling with emotions he doesn't want to read.

And fuck, fuck, he can't resist him, not like this. Not ever.

So he launches forward, kissing the taller man, desperate and rough and Louis acts immediately, turning them around, to press Harry against the wall, and his hands are everywhere, bruising, needing to touch. He feels Louis push his tongue through his parted lips to meet his own, and he can't help but groan into the kiss.

God, Louis is all he can think of, all he can feel.

"Fuck," Louis curses, his voice low, and Harry can feel his skin crawling with want. Heart exploding inside his chest.

"Yeah" he breaths, against Louis' lips before the other pushes their mouths together again. He feels Louis lick inside his mouth, teeth biting his lower lip and their hips still pressed together urgently.

Everything feels hot, and the need is devouring him as Louis grinds against him, fast, faster. He feels Louis hard against his thigh and he nearly smirks triumphantly, before cupping Louis' jeans-clad erection in his hand, the taller man pressing against his hand immediately, gasping at his touch "It must annoy you so much" he breaths, hot against the others lips "That I get you so hard"

"Fuck you" Louis snarls, and slams him back against the wall, snatching his wrist to hold it over his head, fingers digging into his pulse, before crashing his mouth over his own, hips into his.

They rut against each other, desperately and Harry feels like he is in heaven. Louis is holding him up, supporting his body, hot and hard, pressing his back into the wall, and fuck, he can't help but moan at the feeling of them grinding together like that.

"Are you close?" Louis asks then, his hand letting Harry's wrist go, voice shaking "Harry, are you close?"

"Yeah, ah- I'm gonna- ngh-" he ends up moaning desperately then, jerking against Louis' body, clenching his eyes shut as he comes inside his pants.

"Fuck yeah" Louis breaths as he comes as well, his lips hot against his skin, and they sink into each others arms, holding the other up. Soon he can feel tiny kisses and bites at the side of his neck, and he lets out a sigh, never having felt so content in his life.

"Please don't ignore me again tomorrow" he says, after he could breath kind of normally again. Though he can't stop his heart from beating hard in his rip-cage.

"I won't, but-" Louis mumbles, and Harry can feel his hand sliding softly through his hair "Not a word to Eleanor though"

His heart clenches, because he remembers, yes, Louis is not his, the man he loves has a girlfriend. He squeezes his eyes shut then, still leaning against Louis. Is it worth it? Is it?

Is he that selfish? "I won't tell her"

"We can...keep doing this, right?" Louis says, when they get to his door and Harry is ready to leave.

What exactly is Louis asking of him? What is this?

He just mumbles "Yeah" because fuck, it's Louis, and who is he to refuse him? Louis smiles, hand sliding through his brown hair "Good"

And then Louis bids him goodbye, with a hard and bruising kiss, and a reminder not to tell a single soul.

Zayn already left when he came back to the parking lot, and he can't really blame him at all, so he decides to walk home. It's kind of a long walk, and the cold doesn't really make it easier for him. The fresh air is good for him though, it helps him to clear his mind and get's his muddled thoughts in the right order again. He buries his face into Louis' scarf, trying to ignore how it doesn't even smell like the older man anymore.

It's only when he is home that he realizes what kind of relationship he has fallen into with Louis.

What he is to Louis now, what Louis wants him to be. A secret.


	5. WHAT ASKING GETS YOU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, first note here but i had to do it. I don't really know what it is happening with the spaces between paragraphs. some of them are big and others are normal, idk.

"You are really going through with it?" Zayn asks, as he leans back into the soft cushions of his couch. He sounds disbelieving.

"I love him" that's all he has to say on the matter, really. He lost someone he loved already, with his sister's death his heart broke to pieces. Shattered inside his chest, and he spend two years trying to glue it back together. His heart can't take the loss of another person that is dear to him.

"He's all you want" Zayn states and Harry nods, which leads to a deep sigh erupting from the black haired man. He shakes his head before muttering "I wonder if you know how dangerous that is"

"I'm not gonna give up" his voice carries finality. Because he doesn't care about Eleanor anymore. He can't lose Louis. Not now, not when Louis and him are getting to know each other again, in a different way, in a better way.

"I guess that's love" Zayn sighs "Don't hurt yourself"

"Louis just needs a little bit time to get used to things" he lets himself lie down with his head on Zayn's thigh, and looks up at him, before he grins "I can see up your nose"

Zayn snorts, before letting his hand fall over Harry's eyes, fingers blocking his view.

"He will break up with Eleanor once he can accept himself as gay or bi, or whatever" Harry says with conviction, his lashes tickling Zayn's fingers.

The black haired man takes his hand away and peers down at him "What if he only wants to experience with you?"

"Louis is not like that"

"Love blinds"

Harry rolls his eyes "I trust him" 

"Maybe you shouldn't"

"Maybe" Harry sits up and shrugs a little "But I do"

"Alright" Zayn sighs "I just want you to be careful I guess"

Harry lifts one eyebrow questioningly and the black haired man continues "I mean, you are messing with a relationship here, you told me he has been with her for longer than three years, right?"

Harry nods and Zayn goes on, scratching the back of his head absently "That's not something you throw away easily, he might like you and is confused, but don't forget who had his heart for so long"

"I don't think he would risk it if he didn't think it might be worth it"

"Yeah" the black haired man says in agreement maybe, or just because he doesn't want to argue with him. Zayn can be lazy like that, Harry thinks.

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"Tony's?" Louis asks, once they meet at their bench and Harry nods. He didn't know how to greet the other man, but Louis just embraced him in a warm hug, that lasted a little longer because Harry didn't feel like letting the other go yet.

Now that he's finally allowed close to him, he wants to be as close as possible.

The air is cold, but it isn't snowing anymore. Still, the once green grass around him is covered in untouched white. He feels a strong urge to walk through it and ruin the perfect surface. He smiles a little to himself. He guesses, that's just how humans are, always fighting the need to destroy the things that seem too close to perfection.

He voices his thoughts out loud and Louis looks at him for a moment, before he asks "Are you thinking about something in particular?"

"Just the snow" he says and Louis hums.

It's a little awkward. Only a little. He feels a strong need to reach for the others hand, but he doesn't know Louis' boundaries. But he would like to, just...to reassure himself. Maybe. But Louis has his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Harry sighs, and watches how his hot breath leaves white puffs in the air "It's getting colder"

"At least you are dressing accordingly to it now" Louis says and eyes Harry's warm jacket and his own scarf that is tightly wrapped around Harry's neck.

"I can't let you dress me all the time" Harry smiles and he feels the awkwardness fade a little. This is still Louis, even if things between them are differently now, this is still the man he wasted hours joking around with.

"If you would let me dress you, you would look much better" Louis grins and Harry knows he is joking.

Harry snorts "Eleanor dresses you, so don't pretend"

He instantly feels like slapping himself. He doesn't want to talk about her, to be honest, he wishes he could forget about Eleanor altogether. Wishes that Louis could forget her.

But Louis just laughs and says "More the other way around"

Harry doesn't say anything. Louis' girlfriend is the last person he wants to talk about.

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"Ah, I've missed this" Louis sighs, as he leans back in his chair and Harry can't hide his smile. Because, yes, he missed this too, missed Louis and their easy conversations, their closeness. It's nice to hear that Louis feels just like he does.

"Me too" he says and Louis smiles at him. They are sitting at their usual corner and he is already munching on his pizza. This feels like a date, he thinks and maybe it actually is.

"I've started working at the hospital fully now" Louis says then.

"Oh? you finished with your studies then? You are a full doctor now?" 

"Surgeon, yes...finally"

"I'm proud of you" he says, and he means it. Louis must have worked hard. "So how is it working out for you? Do you have to work a lot now?"

Louis smirks at him a little, reaching over the table to lay his hand on Harry's own before saying dramatically "Afraid I don't have time for you anymore, darling?"

He nearly chokes on a piece of pizza and he can't avoid a loud cough, as he hits himself on his chest lightly, trying to get his breathing under control. Louis just saw completely through him. The other starts laughing at his expression almost instantly, letting his hand go.

"Don't die on me" he says, chuckling, clearly amused at Harry's embarrassed state.

"I'm good" he breaths out and clears his throat one last time "I'm fine, shit"

"Thank god" Louis grins and continues eating his own pizza, as if Harry just didn't nearly choke to death.

He eyes Louis over the edge of his own pizza. The other seems to be in a good mood, seems to be content with ignoring how this is...well, maybe a little bit weird. Louis is clearly flirting with him, acting like this is a serious date, ignoring that he has a girlfriend completely.

Harry is a little bit confused how somebody can just do that so easily. He doesn't think that he could behave like this, if he were Louis. Or if he would be with Louis. He could never do something like this, without having the other person in the back of his mind. Without feeling guilty as fuck.

He wonders what that says about Louis' character. That he doesn't seem to have a problem acting like he doesn't have a girl at home, waiting for him, while he is out, having fun, flirting with somebody else. It's the first time he actually thinks about it, and he can't help but feel a little bit uncomfortable at the thought; if Louis doesn't have any qualms about cheating on Eleanor, would he cheat on him too, if they were to be together? If Louis leaves Eleanor for him, would he have to be afraid of that?

He thought he was selfish, because he wanted Louis to himself, but maybe Louis is just as selfish. Acting on his own need, instead of thinking about what Eleanor is feeling. About how much he could hurt her with his actions.

Or maybe even him, too. Does Louis even care how he feels about all of this? He sighs a little bit frustrated, thinking about this just gives him a headache.

"Are you okay?" Louis asks, and he looks concerned "You seemed a little spaced out there"

"I'm fine, don't worry" he grins slightly, to show the other that he is alright.

Louis lets it slide and Harry is thankful for that. Even if he feels like they should talk about what the hell is going on between them, he is kind of scared of it too. He could reassure himself, and Zayn too, that Louis has to have feelings for him, that he wouldn't put his relationship in danger just because he is curious, but at the end of the day, he is completely unsure and insecure.

The only thing he isn't doubting are his own feelings for Louis. It's the only clear thing in his life right now. But maybe everything will just work out fine, even if they don't talk about it. Maybe they can pretend Eleanor doesn't exists when they are together.

And if that's all he ever gets, if all he ever gets from Louis, then he would take it anyway. He would take it, because this, Louis and him, chatting, joking, flirting and enjoying each others presence, makes him happy.

It kind of scares him sometimes, how much his happiness depends on someone else.

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It's already late when they get back and the second he closes the door to his home, he gets slammed against it.

He gasps in surprise, the breath in his body is getting knocked out of him, as Louis presses his warm body against him, pushing and grinding. His mouth is hot on his own, kissing him with such intensity that Harry can't help but moan into it.

Louis is a good kisser, he thought so before, but now he is getting reminded of it. Louis kisses in a way that feels overwhelming to him, hot mouth pressing harshly against his own, taking what he wants from him. Louis kisses with heat, rough and firmly, and so, so good, that Harry can't help but let Louis dominate their kiss from the start. He doesn't even want to fight for it, already surrendering to the taller man, who seems determined to make him melt from one kiss alone.

But then Louis breaks their heated kiss and Harry feels his head spinning. His heart is beating so fast, he can barely catch his breath, as he looks into the other's blue eyes.

"I've been wanting to do this" Louis murmurs against his mouth, like a confession, before stepping away from him to take his jacket off.

Harry watches how Louis sits down on his couch then, as if he didn't just ravished his mouth completely out of nowhere, as if he just didn't remind Harry how much he wants the other man.

Because he wants him in the bluntest way possible, and he realizes that all he did the last few weeks was constantly reaching for Louis, running to him, whenever he called. He wants him to infinity, to the millionth degree, wants him so much he can feel it burning underneath his skin.

And this is why he lets Louis do what he wants. If Louis wants him, them, to be a secret for now, then Harry can do that. He hates it, but he can do that, because he can not bear the thought of losing the other man. He wouldn't survive it. He wouldn't be able to pick up his misguided hopes and dreams, his unwanted affection, and then just move on, as if it were nothing.

He lets out a heavy breath.

"Come here" Louis beckons and he nods, taking his jacket off on the way, loosing Louis' scarf around his neck, putting it over Louis' own clothing before moving to sit on his couch next to the older man.

"Not there" he taps his lap with his hand "Here"

Harry feels heat rising in his cheeks as he moves to sit in Louis' lap. He feels the others hand sliding around his waist, thump digging into his hipbone underneath his shirt.

Louis looks at him then, his dark eyes resting on his face, before he lifts his hand to slide it across Harry's warm cheek.

"You are damn pretty" Louis says then, like he can't really believe that he would think that way, let alone say it out loud, and Harry feels his cheeks getting even hotter, his heart beating faster.

He doesn't get the chance to say something, because Louis takes one of his hands to the back of his head, pushing him towards him, directing his mouth to his own.

He pushes closer to Louis, as close as he can, as he feels the other licking into his mouth instantly. Louis picks up where he left him at the door, continuing the rough and heated kiss, like they never broke it at all. He slides one hand into Louis' soft brown hair, threading his fingers through it and lets his other hand rest at Louis' shoulder as he slings his arm around his neck.

He feels one of Louis' hands sliding down across his back, the other under his shirt, touching his bare skin, and he can't help but to let out an appreciative sigh.

Louis is driving him insane.

He moves his hips a little, and Louis lets out a gasp at the movement. It seems like he is not the only one affected. It makes Harry happy that he can bring Louis pleasure. That he is the first guy Louis is trying this with, that, now in this moment, Louis has chosen him, not Eleanor.

He wants to take it up a notch, so he breaks the kiss. Louis' eyes are glazed slightly, as they look into each others eyes, and his breath comes a little bit more heavy. Fuck, the older man looks so good like this and he wants to see more. Wants to see how Louis will look when he brings him to the brim of ultimate pleasure, wants to be responsible for it.

He slides to his knees then, in between Louis' legs, and the other let's out a appreciative noise. He moves his hands along Louis' jeans-clad thighs, making his way up to the other mans crotch, pulling his zipper down. He doesn't waste any time, sliding Louis' pants and underwear down to his knees, before wrapping his fingers around the thick base of Louis' cock, forming a tight circle.

Louis lets out a sharp breath when Harry leans close, darting his tongue out to lap at the head. He can taste Louis on his tongue, slightly bitter, but not unpleasant, and he lets his tongue flick over Louis' cock, circling around the hard ridge before he stretches his mouth down the older mans length, taking him in.

"Fuck" Louis swears, and he feels one of Louis' hands sliding through his hair, tightening in it, pushing him down even further, urging him to take more.

He obeys, letting his tongue slowly slither up and down as he bobs his head, bringing his mouth to rest against his curled hand with every down stroke. He looks up at Louis then through his lashes, and Louis swears again under his breath.

"You look so good down there" the older man says, breathless, hoarse.

He doesn't answer, instead, he decides to take Louis down even further, as far as he can until he feels Louis' cock hit the back of his throat. Louis gasps at the feeling of a tight throat contracting around his cock, surging his hips forward, pushing Harry's head down. He can't help but moan around Louis' cock at the hard push, and he watches how the other man bites his lips, the vibration of his voice racing through Louis' body.

He picks up his tempo, when he notices how Louis' breath grows shallower. "Harry" Louis gasps "I'm gonna come"

He peers up at Louis, and realizes that the other probably expects him to pull off. He doesn't though, watching how Louis' eyes travel from where his cock is disappearing between Harry's wet lips, to his eyes, looking at him intensely.

"Shit, you-"

Louis' hips jerk as he comes, his hands tightening in Harry's messy brown hair, pushing him down on his cock, holding him there, his eyes fixed upon the boy down on his knees. Harry works him through it, throat contracting around Louis' cock, as he swallows his load, bitter on his tongue.

"God" Louis sighs, still trying to catch his breath, as Harry pulls his mouth of Louis' cock, licking his lips, before tugging the other back into his pants.

He moves up then, sitting himself down on Louis' lap again, pressing against him, pulling the older man into a heated kiss.

Louis can probably taste himself on his tongue, but he doesn't pull away, instead he pushes him closer, hands sliding into his hair again, softly pushing his fingers through it. Louis kisses him lazily, now that he has been satisfied, his kisses are more gentle, and not as rushed and harsh, as they were before. Harry doesn't really care, as long as he can be close to the other.

He pushes his body against Louis', grinding his hips. He is still hard, got hard from having Louis' cock in his mouth, from seeing the other man so out of control, and he can barely keep himself from grinding down on Louis' leg.

"You're hard" Louis says then, breaking the kiss.

No shit, he thinks, but swallows it down, as he just lets out a whine, pushing himself against Louis' body in the need of friction.

"I-" Louis starts, and clears his throat. Harry can feel his hands on his waist again, holding him still, stopping his frantic movement "That's kinda..., I mean-"

"What?"

"You've gotten hard from blowing me" Louis states and Harry nods "I mean- of course I get off on it when you-, but you-" He feels Louis' fingers digging into his hipbone, as he watches how the other struggles to find the right words to say "I just don't ...get the appeal of sucking another mans cock, I guess?"

Harry just hums, pushing closer to Louis again before saying "So you are not gonna repay the favor, are you?"

"Well," he lifts his hand "I could-"

"Don't worry about it" Harry says, although his erection is killing him right now, he knows it will go away after a while. There's no need to rush it, to push Louis where he isn't comfortable yet.

It's silence then, and he leans forward, resting his head on Louis' shoulder. He feels the others hands sliding across his back and he can't help but to let out a content sigh. He doesn't need to get off now, this is nice enough for him.

They sit like this for a while then, enjoying the others warmth, being close, until Harry notices how he starts to feel really sleepy and he can't help but let out a yawn "Are you going to stay the night?" "Oh," Louis starts, "Eleanor is-"

But then he pauses and asks "Do you want me to?"

Harry doesn't say anything, he nods against Louis' shoulder, feeling his body warmth on his own.

"Then, yes, I guess" Louis mutters, and Harry presses his smile into the others shirt.

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"Let's play firsts" Harry grins, as he watches Louis crawling into bed with him. He's already shooed Bobby out of his bedroom, so the dog can sleep peacefully on the couch.

Louis hums "I thought you were tired"

"I'm not anymore"

"Well, I am"

"C'mon, let's talk" he nudges Louis' shoulder as the other turns away from him "C'mon, C'mon, C'mon"

Louis makes a noise, but stays silent. Harry huffs, but can't help but let out an appreciative noise at the sight of Louis' bare back. The black ink is beautiful, Harry thinks, and it fits Louis so, so, well.

"I like your tattoos" he says, and Louis turns around to face him again.

"You never stop talking" Louis grumbles, but there is a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, so Harry knows it's Louis' way of giving in.

"Okay, so..." he shuffles a little closer to Louis, because he can, he is allowed to, and that is enough reason to make him smile stupidly as he looks up in the other mans face "First time getting pissed drunk?"

"Mh..." Louis seems to think about it for a while before he says "With Ashton and Calum under the bleachers at a boring football game in High School" he laughs a little "We were so drunk, we fell asleep there"

"Oh god" Harry laughs "So they were a bad influence on you?"

"No, I was the one who bought the booze" Louis smirks a little, before saying "What about you?"

"Gemma got me drunk" he smiles a bit at the memory "I think I just turned 16 or something, and she just kept giving me shot after shot, and after a while I just couldn't stand straight anymore, Gemma had to give me a piggy-ride back home"

"Like a good responsible big sister" Louis says and Harry chuckles.

"Okay. So..." he starts again, "First time sex?"

"Really?" Louis asks and Harry nods, "With Eleanor"

"What?!" he can't help but let his expression fall a bit, the smile leaving his face. He didn't know Eleanor was Louis' first. Not that it changes anything, or that it matters, but still...it irks him somehow.

"Yeah" Louis nods "Back in High School"

"I thought you've only been with her for like three years or something"

"3 and a half, yes" Louis states, "But I've known her since High school, we were together back then, like nearly all of my High School years, but then her parents moved and she had to leave. We broke up then and got back together when she came back"

"Oh" He doesn't know what else to say, he didn't know that Louis has known Eleanor for so long. But what does he know about them anyway? He knows that they have been together three and a half years, that they live together for nearly two years now, that Louis pays most of the rent and that Eleanor works at Pizza hut...and that's it. He doesn't really know a thing about their relationship. Doesn't know anything else about Eleanor either.

So why is he so surprised that Louis has been with her for longer than he had thought? Why does this hurt so much?

Why does he feel much more guilty now?

"What about you?" Louis asks then, completely pulling him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"First time sex" Louis smiles, nudging his shoulder "C'mon, spill"

"When I first moved in here" Harry starts, because he feels like he needs to tell the whole story for Louis to get it "I was still grieving about Gemma's death. I wasn't over it and I-" he interrupts himself "I'm not over it now either, but I can be happy now, I've accepted it, you know?" he waits until Louis nods as a sign that he understood him "But back then... I was just a mess"

He tries to search for the right words, but he finds that there is no way to wrap it up nicely for Louis, so he just says bluntly "The first time I met Zayn, I got drunk with him, spilled my heart and then we had sex on his bedroom floor"

Louis frowns "You slept with him?!"

"Yeah" he nods "But...we decided pretty quickly that we are better off as friends"

"Alright" the other man just says, and turns around again. Showing him that this is the end of their conversation. He seems angry and Harry isn't sure why. He doesn't think Louis has the right to be angry at him anyway. What does one drunken night mean against a relationship?

It means nothing. Louis should know that.

"Are you angry?" he asks, and he reaches out until his hand is touching Louis' warm skin.

"No" Louis murmurs "Sleep now"

"Zayn is a good friend, but he could never be more than that" he explains.

"Why?"

The question caught him off guard and the because I'm in love with you, nearly spills from his lips. He lets out a deep breath. Louis is aware of nothing. He doesn't get anything.

If someone should be angry it's him.

He swallows it down though and says "He teaches P.E and math. I hate math"

He can see Louis' back shake a bit as the other chuckles, before he turns around again, pulling Harry into his warm arms, until he lays with his head on Louis' naked chest.

"That's a stupid reason" Louis mumbles into his hair, and Harry feels his heart beat hard at their closeness.

"It's reason enough"

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The thing is, it's too easy to pretend, when they are eating breakfast on his couch, and Harry makes fun of Louis' deep hatred for bread. When they exchange kisses on his couch, Louis pressing him into the soft cushions, it's too easy to pretend that Louis loves him just as much as he loves Louis.

So when Louis gets up to leave just after breakfast, talking about how he and Eleanor had plans for today, reality just slaps him hard in the face.

"She wants to check out this new pizza place downtown" he says, putting on his jacket.

"When will we meet again?" Harry says, and he hates how he...clings.

Louis lifts an eyebrow "I've got to work the next days...how about next Wednesday? I've reserved that day for you anyway"

"Alright" he nods.

"Hey" Louis says, and he reaches his hand out to ruffle through his hair, like he always does, pulling him into a kiss, before leaving with a "See you"

"See you"he sighs as he closes the door.

Reality truly is a bitch.


	6. CAN'T PRETEND ANYMORE

He doesn't stay long at the party after the incident in the kitchen, the fear of losing the control of his emotions too big.

He leans his head against the window, where the rain drops against and slides down, the taxi drives him through the night, jazz music playing on the radio.

He sighs, feeling lose at the seams and can't help but hate himself a little for checking his phone to see if Louis send him a message. Usually Louis asks him if he got home safe or if he is still on his way and wishes him a good night. There is no message though and even if he didn't expect one, not after what happened, it still breaks something inside of him then.

He shakes his head at himself, putting his phone back. Something unimportant like a that shouldn't hurt him so much.

Someone once told him that, when you're in love even the smallest things can break a person, back then he didn't get it, and now that he does, he wishes he never understood at all.

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He hasn't heard from Louis since Friday, it's kind of frustrating, the silence weighing him down. They used to text each other throughout the day, but now? Nothing. No text, no call, no surprised "I've bought Pizza" - visit. And god, isn't it sad how Harry already misses him? How he stares at his phone like his glare can somehow reach Louis through it? How he spend the last nights wide awake thinking about the scenario in the kitchen?

He feels pathetic.

And now, standing at their bench, rain dripping down the edges of his umbrella, waiting for a man that probably isn't going to come, doesn't help.

It's Wednesday and maybe he thought, hoped, that Louis would be there. Because he hasn't called to cancel, hasn't said anything. Harry just assumed that they were going to meet at their usual place again. No such luck though. He feels like kicking the stupid bench.

Absolutely and completely pathetic.

If he is honest with himself, he can't even be angry at Louis. It's his own fault. The other was probably just messing with him anyway, kidding around, and then, maybe surprised that Harry was so into it. He wants to slap himself for his stupidity. Louis was probably not in his right mind, and he was well... not that drunk at all. He should have stopped him, he knows, but fuck, with the other pressing himself against him, kissing him like he is the only one worth kissing, like he has been desperate to do so, he just couldn't stop himself from letting Louis do as he pleases. If the other man blames him now, he can't really fault him for that.

He looks at his phone, the other should have been here 20 minutes ago. He knows Louis is usually overly punctual. He sighs and makes his way home.

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"Stop your depressive sighing" Zayn says, as he looks through the CD's "You're putting me in a bad mood"

"I am in a bad mood" Harry huffs.

They are at the mall right now. Usually his Wednesdays are reserved for spending time with Louis, but now he doesn't see why he should mope around at home, when he could hang out with Zayn. While the other is a good friend, he is really shitty at giving advice to people, but it's nice to talk to someone about his problems with Louis anyways. Even if Zayn just hums at the right times, he knows the other is listening.

"Yeah, I know" the man says, before ruffling through his hair "Lets grab some coffee, alright?"

"Alright" he sighs again, and Zayn throws him a pointed look.

"I want a milkshake, though" he says after a moment, ignoring the others glance.

They walk through the crowd then, and Zayn talks about his job at the town's middle-school and how he teaches the kids to start with kendo, even though he should play something like Basketball with them in P.E., and how he doesn't give a shit about Basketball and the headmaster should just fuck off. Harry laughs now and then starts talking about how he always liked Baseball the most.

He knows Zayn is just talking so much, so he doesn't get enough room in his head to think about Louis. He doesn't think he can stop that though, Louis is always on his mind, but Harry appreciates the effort.

When he lets out a loud laugh after Zayn states how the headmaster could shove the basketballs up his ass, for all he cares, it's then, that he sees them and his laugh dies instantly in his throat.

"Oh, no" Harry mumbles and Zayn asks "What?"

He points to Louis and Eleanor, walking towards them, Eleanor excitingly talking, holding a slice of pizza in one hand, and Louis' in her other. His heart sinks instantly at the sight and he swallows hard.

"Let's just walk in the other direction before he notices-" he says tensely and tries to tear his eyes away from the pair. But it's too late then. Louis has already seen him, met his eyes over the distance, before quickly looking away, obviously choosing to ignore him. If Harry is honest with himself, he never thought blatant rejection could hurt so much.

He sees how Louis tries to get Eleanor to walk the other way, away from them, but the brown haired girl has already seen them and soon starts calling out his name, while waving at them. She then proceeds to walk towards them, pulling Louis after her, who looks like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Oh, no" Harry repeats, but tries to smile, lifting his hand in greeting, before he feels a strong arm sliding around his waist, fingers gripping his hip "What-? Zayn?"

The black haired man just grins down at him, pulling his body even closer to his side "Just trust me"

Before he can retort anything, Eleanor and Louis are already in front of him.

God, he hates to admit it, but they look so good together. Louis' dark and kinda dangerous look, paired with Eleanors colorful appearance just really makes them stand out. Although, he thinks, Louis probably doesn't need Eleanor to draw attention.

"Hey, Harry! Nice to see you!" she smiles, a little out of breath from trying to get to them so fast.

He doesn't really look at her, his eyes fixed at Louis' face who looks uncomfortable and doesn't even look at them, his gaze sliding through the crowd.

He looks as disinterested as can be.

"Who's your friend?" she asks then, still grinning, as her eyes wander to Zayn's arm around his waist.

"That's Zayn, we're neighbors" Harry answers, quickly tearing his eyes away from Louis, to look Eleanor in the eyes.

"Nice to meet you" the girl smiles, shaking Zayn's hand "So what are you two up to this rainy Wednesday...?"

"We're just-"

"We are on a date" Zayn interrupts, and Harry nearly chokes on his breath.

He feels Louis' gaze on him instantly, his piercing look, and he feels a blush spreading across his face, before he can help it. What the hell is Zayn thinking? He basically just officially outed him, god, why would he-? Harry actually feels anger bubbling up inside of him, but tries to swallow it. Zayn said to trust him, so he just plays along and forces a smile on his face before nodding.

Eleanor looks shocked for a moment, but she pulls herself together quickly "So you are gay? I didn't know that" she says bluntly, before looking at Louis "Honey, did you knew that?"

"No" Louis just answers, and still, Harry doesn't dare to look at him. Fuck, this is going to change everything.

"It's not a big deal" Harry just says and shrugs his shoulders. But it is, it's a huge deal and his and Louis' relationship may never be the same, even if they work out the problems they have now, they will never function the same way as before. His heart clenches a bit, as the realization of that hits him.

He wants to get out of Zayn's hold, feels the strong need to push the other away just to explain. But what would he say anyway? What could he possibly say to change anything?

He bites his lip and keeps silent when Eleanor remarks that they look cute together. After that they just chat for a while, until Louis says that they probably should get going.

They bid their goodbyes and when he is certain the couple is out of ear-shot he turns towards the black haired man before pushing himself out of Zayn's hold

"What the fuck?" he spits, but the other just lets out a loud laugh.

"What's so funny? God! This was awkward as hell!" Harry says, desperately. This just ruined everything.

"You don't get it, do you?" Zayn asks, still trying not to laugh, before gesturing in the direction Louis and Eleanor walked off to "He was really irritated...and so confused, god, hilarious"

"What?!"

Zayn snorts "Were you so concentrated on being embarrassed that you didn't even notice the glares he shot at me?"

"I-" Harry says, before shaking his head "You got it all wrong"

"Me?" Zayn answers, before laughing "No, it's you who doesn't get it" "No, look, he-"

"I don't know what his problem is" Zayn interrupts him and starts walking again "But he really didn't like the thought of you going out with me, sure, I can't read minds, but that much was obvious"

Harry is silent for a while. He doesn't really get it and it's all a mess in his brain anyways. The encounter with Louis just left him shaken and confused, Zayn with his far fetched theories doesn't make it any better.

He lets out a deep sigh, before he links arms with Zayn, who looks down at him, lifting an eyebrow, confusion evident in his face.

Harry grins up at him and says jokingly "We're on a date, aren't we?" Zayn laughs then "We are"

ϟ☀☁☂❄ϟ☀☁☂❄ϟ☀☁☂❄ϟ☀☁☂❄

He walks into his kitchen, the light-bulb still flickering over his head, and Harry glares at it.

"Yeah, yeah" he mumbles to himself, "Gotta get a new one, I know" he sighs then, before leaning against his kitchen counter, while he waits for the water to boil.

He looks to the side, where the small window is located, but the darkness of the night prevents him from seeing anything but his own reflection.

It's late at night, the sound of the rain hitting against the window fills the room and even with Zayn sitting in his living room, he feels lonely.

"Shit" he curses out of pure frustration. It could have been different, he thinks, taking the hot water from the stove, before filling a cup with it, putting a teabag and sugar in. It could have been different, if he didn't let himself fall for Louis. If he wouldn't have been stupid enough to believe there would ever be a chance for them to be something more, he wouldn't be hurting right now.

He clenches his eyes shut, letting out a deep sigh, before taking a beer can out of his fridge for the black haired man.

This is the worst.

And Zayn wasn't helping the situation at all.

He gets back to his living room where Zayn is sitting on the couch, Bobby in his lab and Harry has to smile a bit. It just reminds him a little of Louis, that is all.

He shakes his head at himself, making his way over to thrust Zayn the can in his hand.

"Thanks" Zayn says, before opening it and taking a sip. Harry just nods, and lets himself sit beside him.

"It's stormy outside" he mumbles, as he hears thunder from afar.

"Mh?" Zan lifts an eyebrow "Darling," he says then, smirking at him and Harry rolls his eyes, "Are you scared?"

He gives Zayn a light shove "I'm not, idiot. In fact, I kinda like them"

He gets pulled out of his thoughts when the doorbell rings. He blinks, tea cup still in his hands as he moves up to open the door.

"Who's that?" Zayn asks from behind him and Harry can't answer because- It's Louis. Standing in front of him, dripping wet, is Louis.

He feels his breath get stuck in his throat and he nearly lets his cup slide out of his hands.

"Hey" the taller man says, "Can I come in?"

"Uhm," Harry tarts, intelligently, before taking a step to the side "ah, uh-, sure"

"Thanks" Louis says, looking around the room until his gaze lands on Zayn, his expression hardens, but he stays silent, not commenting on the fact that the other man is here, late at night.

Zayn just eyes him warily, while Louis starts taking his coat off to throw it over one of the chairs and says casually "Nasty weather, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it" Louis answers drily, brown hair still dripping droplets of rain on his wet face, Harry has to chuckle a little. Louis looks like a wet dog.

"Got caught in it, I should have taken my umbrella with me"

"I'm gonna get you a towel" Harry says, putting his tea cup on the table before making his way to the bathroom. When he gets there, he closes the door and leans against it just to take a moment to himself, taking a deep breath, trying to get the thoughts running through his mind into the right order. Just Louis' presence is making him nervous and he feels silly, he shakes his head at himself, his hand sliding against the wooden door. Louis shouldn't get his heart beating like this.

The feelings he has for Louis are nothing new to him, but he never felt so weighed down by them like he does now. They're just a burden he has been carrying around in his heart.

When he comes back with a towel, Zayn has left, and Louis is standing in his living room, looking kind of lost. His heart clenches a little bit at the sight, only a few weeks ago, Louis felt completely at ease and comfortable in his home. What changed?

Did he let his love for the other man come in between them so much, that Louis can't even feel content in what he considered his favorite place to be?

"He left" Louis says, unnecessarily and nods as a thank you when Harry gives him the soft towel.

"I see" Harry just answers, sitting down on the couch, taking his cup from the table again.

He doesn't know what to do with Louis, now that he is standing in front of him.

Why is he even here anyways? He didn't even care to look at him when they met at the mall, and now he is in his living room, drying his hair and face with a towel.

"Sit down" Harry says, because he doesn't know what else to say and he feels awkward with Louis standing in the room like that.

"My jeans is...well..kind of.." Louis just mumbles, fingers tapping against the wet denim of his pants "Don't want to get your couch-"

"I don't mind" Harry interrupts, and watches how Louis sits down.

"Sorry for interrupting your...date" Louis says, looking at Bobby who has curled up under the small living room table.

Harry blinks a little, and again, he doesn't really now what Louis is thinking. He can't read Louis' voice, can't read his expression and he feels a little helpless, because what is he supposed to say now? Should he tell Louis that Zayn was just kidding? That he is not dating anybody? Or should he just play along?

Louis pulls him back out of his thoughts, before Harry can even try to answer "What was he even doing here...so late at night?"

Harry furrows his brows, and he studies Louis' face, who's now looking at him, irritation evident in his face, confusion leaking through his voice "I mean..." Louis says then, and his hands splay out over his still wet jeans, fingers sliding over the denim of his thigh "You weren't going to...?"

"...What?" Harry asks then, when Louis doesn't end the sentence.

"Never mind" Louis answers, hastily, eyes sliding back to the window, where the rain is still hitting against.

Harry hears the threatening sound of thunder and he feels the need to open the window just a little bit, because he knows Louis likes hearing the rain, likes the sound of nature raging outside, when he is inside. Safe.

But he doesn't, too focused on the situation he has to manage now. "I don't want you to date Zayn"

His eyes widen, his fingers clutching desperately at the tea cup, afraid of letting it fall. What is Louis getting at? Is Louis trying to tell him he doesn't like him being gay? Or that he doesn't like Zayn?

Or is Louis jealous?

He shakes his head at himself, quickly trying to get his mind from going in that direction. Louis is not like himself, Louis has a girlfriend, has a steady relationship, there is no way the other man would ever feel something like jealousy because of him dating another man.

"I-" he starts and he wants to say, that he isn't dating Zayn, that they were just joking, that they should forget the kiss they shared in Louis' kitchen, the best kiss he might ever get, even if it hurts him. He wants to apologize for not telling him sooner about his sexual orientation, for not telling the truth. He doesn't get any of that over his lips though, his mouth forms one word before he can even comprehend that he has said it.

"Why?"

Louis looks at him then, a tattooed hand sliding through his, still slightly wet hair "You two don't fit together"

Harry lifts one eyebrow, ready to counter that argument but Louis says quickly "I mean, he is all serious, and you are just that happy and easy going guy, I just don't-"

"You are all serious too, and we are friends" They are still friends, right?

"Yes" Louis says, and he looks irritated "But he is too old for you"

"Huh? He is only two years older...yours and Eleanor's age difference is much bigger" Harry says, and he's really getting confused now. What is Louis' problem?

"Don't compare us" Louis grits out, before saying "Zayn seems like a jerk"

"You don't even know him" Harry replies and he puts the cup back on the table now. The tea now cold anyway.

"But you do?" Louis snaps then, and Harry flinches a little at Louis raising his voice, surprised to see the other man getting angry beside him. He is used to see Louis calm and collected, but the other looks like he can barely contain himself.

"I-" Harry starts, but stops himself then, because he doesn't even know what he should say. Doesn't know what Louis wants him to say.

"You what?" Louis asks then, and he stands up, Harry sees Bobby lift his head alarmingly at the sudden movement, and Harry makes a soothing noise to tell him it's alright, before he stands up too, feeling too small, being stared down by the taller man.

"I don't...I don't know, okay?" Harry says then, and he watches how Louis takes a step closer to him, he takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, because he can't read Louis right now, and it's kind of scaring him a little. He thought he has seen all of Louiss facets, but he has never seen him like that.

"There's a lot you don't know" Louis replies, and shakes his head "I don't even get it myself, but I-" he stops himself, still coming closer to him, until Harry feels the hard wooden door pressing against his back. Until Louis is cornering him.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say" Harry answers then, his voice shakes a little, because it's the truth, and he can't think straight, not with Louis so close to him. He closes his eyes, the others presence feels overwhelming to him, and he is sure his heart is ready to burst out of his chest.

"You-" he starts, but then he feels a hand on his cheek, and he opens his eyes, just to find blue ones staring back at him. He swallows hard, can not help it, his eyes flickering down to the others lips, and he tries to wrap his head around it, because fuck, fuck, what is this? Why is Louis acting like this? Why is he this close to him? Can't he see how confusing this is to him? How he can barely breath? How everything is too much for him?

How he can not stop himself from wanting Louis?

He tries to remember how to breath, when Louis leans down towards his face. A single water droplet trickles down on his face from a strand of Louis' brown hair, his mind flashes in red warning lights, and screams at him to get the fuck away from the man who is about to kiss him

Who already has someone to love. "Louis-"

Louis' hand moves up, grabbing the back of his head, and the kiss is crushing like he doesn't want them to say words that are inadequate. Harry kisses him back, feeling torn open, closer to Louis than he has ever felt to anyone before and he realizes then and there, that's where he wants to keep him. Close. At the core. He wants Louis to know the things he used to tell his sister, all the secrets he has, he wants Louis to be the one. He wants him.

Louis presses him against the door, body flush against his own, and Harry can't help but whine low in his throat at the feeling. Louis' finger slides softly through his hair, and Harry lets his hands rest on Louis' back, fingers clenching in the others damp shirt.

He gasps when he feels Louis slide one of his legs in between his own, and the other uses this opportunity to slide his tongue into his mouth, meeting his own in a hot kiss. Harry feels his heart beat hard against his chest, his breath coming heavy, his head a mess.

They are making a mistake, Harry knows, but fuck, it's hard to escape the feeling spreading through his body, making his heart beat like thunder.

Too much.

He pushes his hands against Louis' chest and turns his head to the side, breaking the kiss. His breathing heavy, as he forces himself to look at the other man.

"What about Eleanor?"

Louis raises an eyebrow, and he looks troubled for a moment, just a moment, maybe, before he pushes close to him again, and Harry feels his breath, hot against his lips, feels the wooden door, hard against his back, hears the thunder growling outside.

"Forget her for now, will you?" the words are mumbled against his lips.

And Harry closes his eyes again, and lets himself have this moment. This moment where he can pretend that Eleanor doesn't exist, that he is the only one for Louis, just as much as he is for him.

He lets himself have this moment, because he knows, he might never get it again.


	7. NEGLECTFUL LOVER

Weeks go on like this, they meet, they talk, they kiss and then they fool around on Harry's couch.  
Sometimes Louis text's him that Eleanor is going to be at work and he comes over. Sometimes he meets her in the hallway, and she greets him, smiles at him, she hugs him, and the guilt, this horrible guilty feeling inside his heart, is more than overwhelming.  
He tells Louis so, and the older shuts him up with a kiss.

It's getting Christmas soon, and Louis and him have been getting closer and closer each day. He's learning to read Louis's body, what he likes, likes leaving marks on him, and harsh kisses, when he's had a hard day at work, likes slow movements, hands sliding softly through his hair, when he is sleepy. He likes lazy and sloppy morning kisses, likes to take his time when exploring Harry's body. Louis gets more and more confident when they meet, although they haven't fucked yet, Louis fingers him sometimes telling him how good he looks like this, riding his fingers, moaning, as if he is giving him gods greatest gift.  
He drinks it all up, thirsty for Louis's touches and affection, his words and his need to keep Harry close, but never too close.  
Sometimes he feels everything at once, the guilt, the love and the jealousy, when Louis sleeps next to him, peacefully, unaware. And no matter how hard he tries to forget, there is a sick feeling in his stomach that won't leave him alone.  
He can't help but feel like he is drowning.

Sometimes Louis calls Eleanor, to tell her he is working late and won't make it to dinner, sometimes he gets a text message telling him the same thing, and he doesn't know what's true, what is honest, what is real anymore.

He doesn't know if Louis still sleeps with Eleanor and if he does, he is good at hiding it. He won't make Louis tell him, knowing the truth might just hurt him in the end. He isn't sure if Louis knows that he loves him, more than anything, but if he can't see it, he must be blind. His affection for the other man is blatantly obvious, he thinks, but maybe Louis leaves his eyes closed on purpose. Maybe he doesn't want to know.  
Harry doesn't know how Louis feels about him, it's hard to read him, now that he knows more of his side than the sweet and gentle one he got to love. Louis's character is more complex than he has ever thought possible, he is more than the nice guy, Harry has fallen for, he is incredibly selfish and controlling, a coward, but he is honest in his rawest moments and Louis can be the most loving man he will ever meet.  
Harry doesn't know a lot of things, but what he knows though, is when he and Louis are close, when Louis is holding him in his arms, he knows that nothing else matters, because he never felt as secure, never felt as special and loved, as when Louis lets his hands run through his hair, pressing kisses on his forehead.  
Louis leaves him vulnerable, leaves him open, and he can't fight it at all.

"It's getting Christmas" Zayn says, when they meet in the hallway "You should come along with the shitty cook and a few friends, we're going to a big ass Christmas party and we're going to get drunk as fuck and it's gonna be awesome"  
"I think I'll pass" Harry just says, trying to get his keys out of his pocket, while holding his groceries.  
"Oh, c'mon" Zayn rolls his eyes "Saying no to a party? That's not like you at all. Do you have something planned already?"  
Not really, he thinks, but says "Maybe Louis and I will spend Christmas together" Zayn raises an eyebrow "Isn't he going to be with his girlfriend?"  
"Yeah, no, he promised though" he says. Louis has been getting away from Eleanor more and more. He is sure, Louis can come up with something so they can spend Christmas together.

"Not like it matters" Harry says.

"You know" Zayn comes closer to him, helping him with his groceries, carrying the bags so Harry can finally get his door open "I'm worrying about you"  
"Huh?" Harry asks, surprised, as Zayn follows him through his door, bag in each hand.  
"You don't really get out anymore, you know?" "I get out plenty"  
Zayn sighs, "I just think you shouldn't let your whole life be controlled by...whatever it is you have with this guy, it's not healthy"  
"I'm not sad" he says.

"You're not happy either. I can't even remember the last time I saw you smile"

"Then tell me what I should do" he snaps now "If you know so much, if you know everything, then what should I do?!"  
"You hate it, right? Hiding all the time, being a secret?" Zayn says, following him into his kitchen "Tell him he should break up with Eleanor, look how he reacts and you'll have your answer"  
"But what if-"

"Then he is not worth it" Zayn interrupts him, as he drops the groceries on the kitchen counter.  
"Look, I'm trying to make the best out of what Louis is willing to give" he says, fixing the other with an angry glare "I don't care if it's unhealthy, I love him and- "  
"God, you-" Zayn starts, and he sounds as frustrated as Harry feels.

"I, what?" he interrupts the other man "You know nothing, Zayn, don't tell me what to do" he snaps furiously.  
And then...Zayn laughs, he laughs and Harry blinks at him, bewildered.

"Why are you laughing?" he says, irritated, this isn't funny.

"Because fucking finally, you are showing some anger" Zayn explains "But your rage is not directed at me now, is it? All that frustration is because of Louis. You are just letting it out on me, because I'm here, shoving the truth into your face"  
"Fuck off" he snarls "Why do you even care?!"

"I'm your friend, god damn it, Harry!" Zayn says, taking a step closer to him, and Harry takes a step back automatically until his back is pressed against the hard counter and there is no way to go "I know you are not stupid, I know you love him, but fuck, you deserve more than that!"  
His eyes widen a little at Zayn's outburst.

"Don't be angry at me for trying to be with Louis" he says and Zayn opens his mouth, but before the green-haired man gets a chance to interrupt him, he speaks again, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He doesn't like fighting with his friend. "If you had a person in your life you love more than anything, wouldn't you be willing to do everything you can just to be near that person? Is it so wrong if I try to-"  
"Harry-" Zayn interrupts and Harry takes a deep breath before saying helplessly "I just don't know what to do, I've never felt that way"  
"I get it, alright" the green-haired man sighs. "You..you do?"  
Zayn nods, and he looks like he is deep in thought, before he says, "You should invite Louis out to the bar with us tonight" reaching his hand out to ruffle through Harry's black hair, like he always does, like Louis always does.  
He smiles at Zayn, because he knows, the green-haired man just gave Louis a chance.

Harry learns that if you want Louis to be more honest about his feelings, you gotta get him drunk.

Like really drunk.

Once they reach his apartment, Louis can't keep his hands to himself, pushing Harry drunkenly against the door, his hands frantically trying to get rid of Harry's jacket, and once they do, finding their way under his shirt, touching his bare skin, making him gasp.  
"Louis" he mumbles, clenching his hands into Louis's shirt, as the older man trails kisses and gentle bites along his throat "Wait, we-"  
"Don't wanna" Louis slurs, drunkenly, wet, against his skin and Harry can smell the alcohol in his breath. He pushes his hands in Louis's dark hair, pulling his head back carefully, until their eyes meet and their breath mingles "God, you don't know what you do to me"  
Fuck, the other man is so close, and his heart beats hard against his chest, his breathing heavy. Louis's eyes shine dark in the dim light of his apartment, his breath ghosting over his skin, and fuck. Harry wants.  
He crashes his lips against Louis's then, harsh and hot, and the older man immediately presses him even harder against the door, pushing his body flush against his own. He feels Louis's tongue slipping into his mouth, meeting his own. Louis kisses him so hungrily, like he wants to devour him, and Harry nearly can't stand the heat, but tries to meet Louis with his own want, pushing his body against Louis's in an attempt to get even closer.  
"Fuck" Louis breaths, when they break the kiss and Harry lets out a whine.

And then, Louis starts to lean against him, letting his weight fall on the smaller teenager, and Harry holds Louis up as the other man mumbles drunkenly "My head is swimming"  
"You are drunk" he says and Louis just hangs in his arms like he is not nearly two meters tall. He tries to get Louis to his bedroom, pushing the other man on his bed once they get there.  
"I feel sick" Louis slurs, lying on his bedspread while Harry takes his shoes off.

"Yeah" Harry sighs "Maybe you shouldn't have started a bet with Zayn. He can drink everyone under the table"

Louis just grunts, before he says drunkenly "He gained my utter respect for that"

"God" Harry murmurs, and he can't help but laugh. Louis is being silly. He tries to get Louis's jeans off, and the man cooperates, lifting his hips so he can slide it down. He then proceeds to push the hem of Louis’ shirt over the others head. Louis murmurs angrily at him while he does so, mumbling something about how he is going to suffocate if Harry isn't careful.  
"Gimme...phone" Louis says then, when Harry tugs him in "Please?" "What? Why?" he asks, taking his clothes of himself now.  
"Gonna tell Eleanor that I'm drunk" Louis says "She should know that I'm drunk, it's her right to know that I'm drunk"  
Harry lifts an eyebrow, before crawling in next to Louis "It's like 3am, I doubt she is awake"  
The other man makes an agreeing sound before pushing close to him, nuzzling into his neck.  
"Do you love her?" he asks softly, because, damn it, he needs to know if Louis still has feelings for her, after everything. If she is just as important now, as she has been before they started this. And yes, maybe he is selfish for taking advantage of Louis's drunken state, but fuck, who could blame him?  
"I-" Louis pauses for a moment, hesitates, before he says "Yes"

Harry closes his eyes for a moment, he knew that answer would come. Fuck.

"What about me?" he asks, god, he just needs to know and drunk people always tell the truth right?  
"Harry" the older man says, and Harry can feel a hand sliding through his hair. Softly, comforting.  
"What is it?"

"I care so much about you" Louis murmurs into his neck and Harry tries to remember how to breath. It's not love, not yet, and he feels the frustration, the

sadness, the bitterness, of the last few days rolling over him like a wave. Everything crashes together at once then, his feelings of love, his insecurities, his need to be as close to Louis as he can, no matter what it takes. All these feelings are leaving him breathless, made happen by one sentence alone.  
He can't answer in that moment, and silence fills the room, until Louis breaks it again, speaking quietly against his neck, breath ghosting over his skin. He can smell the alcohol.  
"I'm sorry" and then "I know I'm being unfair to you and her"

His eyes widen in surprise, and he looks up at Louis, meeting his gaze.

"I'm trying to do things right" Louis admits, and he sounds pleading, painful, raw "Please just give me time"  
He thought Louis doesn't care, and he chokes back a pained noise, because fuck, he thought he was the only one feeling weighed down by it all. He thought Louis was unaffected. But he was wrong. God, he was so wrong. Louis looks like he doesn't know what to do at all, looks like he can barely keep it together.  
He's just as caught up in this mess as he is.

"So..." Harry starts, and Louis hums as an answer that he heard him "Christmas"

They are sitting on Harry's comfy couch, Louis leaning back against the cushions while Harry sits next to him, back against the end of the couch, feet propped up on the cushions, facing Louis. They just came back from Tony's, like every Wednesday, when Louis has a free day. Eleanor doesn't know that, he is sure. She doesn't know that Louis has a free day, just reserved for him.  
"Mh?" Louis says, taking a sip from his lightly sugared tea, he's reading a magazine he bought on the way. Something about medicine and doctor stuff and all the stuff Harry doesn't care for. He looks good today, Harry thinks as he watches him from the side, but who is he kidding? Louis always looks disarmingly handsome. The dark tanned skin, the tattoos, piercings, his strong jaw, grey eyes like a storm, dark hair. Harry sighs a little dreamily. They just heavily made out against his door and Harry is already yearning for more. He can't even explain his feelings for the other anymore. But he guesses, that is

love, if you are at loss for words for what you feel. When words aren't enough, when they are too unclear to describe the emotion he feels from being close to the other man.  
He buries his feet under Louis's warm thighs, because, well, he can. And his feet are cold.  
"Your feet are cold" Louis murmurs, turning a page.

"It's getting colder outside" he grins, wiggling his toes under the 26-year old's jeans-clad thighs.  
It's true though, it has been getting colder and colder with each day, and he knows Louis likes the cold actually. He likes it too, in some way. He likes when it's snowing outside, when the ice-crystals slowly make their way down to the ground behind his window. He could do without the cold though.  
"Maybe you should try socks" Louis just says, but he doesn't move away from him and Harry knows that the other doesn't really mind.  
"Mhhhh" Harry just hums "I like this better"

"Of course you do" Louis smiles into his magazine, and Harry nearly forgot what he was asking before, distracted by the sight.  
"Anyway, so...Christmas?" Harry asks, watching how Louis folds the magazine before putting it on the table.  
Christmas is coming near, and is there anything better than Christmas? Fuck, no. It's one of his favorite holidays. And maybe Halloween. And what would be better than spending this day with Louis? Right. Nothing. He hadn't had a nice Christmas since Ace died, he spend the last two ones at a local Christmas Party with Zayn and Niall, getting shitfaced. It would be nice to spend the evening and night Louis, instead of getting wasted and then making out with some stranger in a street corner.  
"What about it?" Louis asks back.

"Are we going to spend it together?" he asks, Harry tugs his feet under his own legs then, leaning closer to Louis "You said it would be no problem and I've

already-"

"Yeah, well" Louis interrupts him, and he looks uncomfortable "Change of plans, I guess?"  
"What do you mean?" he already can feel his heart sink at Louis's expression. The older looks sorry.  
"Eleanor has bought plane tickets for her and myself. She wants to visit her parents with me over Christmas"  
"Oh" he just says, swallowing hard "And of course you are going to-"

"Go with her, yes" Louis throws him a apologetic glance and Harry feels something hard in his chest.  
And for the first time, for the very first time, since this thing, this nothing, between them started he feels his love for Louis overcome by raw anger.  
"Look, I'm really sorry, but I can't just-"

"No, no, hey" he interrupts and waves his hand in a dismissive manner, leaning away when Louis tries to touch him, "I get it, I get it" he says "She's your girlfriend, of course you are going to be with her"  
He takes a heavy breath, trying to calm himself down. But fuck, fuck. He already told Zayn that he will not coming with him to this shitty party, because he thought-  
He thought Louis would do that for him.

"Harry" the older says in a placating manner, and he lifts his hand, and Harry already knows what Louis wants to do, wants to ruffle through his hair, like he always does, as if that could sooth his anger somehow. "I-"  
"No" he says, and he moves away from Louis completely "You should leave"

"Don't be angry" the other says, desperately, moving up from the couch, his hand still reaching out to him "You know I'm trying to-"

"You are trying to have everything at once" Harry stands up from the couch as well, he can't sit right now. Not when the anger is boiling his blood. "I get it, I'm not stupid"  
"That's not-"

"No, this is exactly what it is" Harry grits out, "And I've had enough of it"

"Would you just listen? It's not-" Louis starts helplessly, but fuck, no. No. He will not let Louis talk, he will not let Louis lull him with his words, words full of affection. He will stand his ground this time.  
"Fuck you" he snarls "You can just take and take. It's all you do" Louis looks like he wants to say something, but Harry doesn't let him, he's not finished yet "And I've asked for one little thing. Just one little thing. For you to be here, with me, on Christmas. Is that too much to ask?"  
Louis doesn't say anything to that. But he looks guilty. "You promised" he says then.  
He thinks Louis is a little bit surprised that he is reacting the way he is. Normally he would just deal with it. He can deal with Louis having a girlfriend, he can deal with being a secret and hiding and coming over when Louis calls. He can deal with all that, he was patient, waiting for Louis to come around. He gave the older man all of that. And now he is just asking for one little thing, one thing he wants.  
Because he never asks something of Louis. Never wants something from him. He never says "I want you to stay" before Louis leaves him to go home, he never says "I want to see you" when the older man says he can't come over tonight.  
He never said "I want you to break up with Eleanor" and never "I want you to be mine" although it's on the back of his mind everyday.  
Fuck, he can't even remember the last time he said the word want out loud.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Louis says then and he gestures helplessly "I know I promised but I can't just-"  
"You should leave" he repeats, his voice hard.

"Harry, let me-" "Leave"  
Louis looks defeated when he finally decides that talking with Harry is impossible right now, he leaves with an apologetic glance and a "I'm sorry" and Harry can barely remember how to breath.  
He stares at the door that Louis just closed and it's not until he feels something wet on his cheeks that he snaps out of it. He laughs a little bit then, embarrassed at himself, pushing his tears away with the back of his hand. This is not worth crying over. He knows. But he also knows that this fight wasn't even just about them spending Christmas together, it was about more.  
It was a fight between him and Eleanor, a fight over Louis's time and affection, it was about who is more important and he just lost bitterly.  
He knows the other man is aware of that.

It's Christmas evening, it's already dark outside, but through his window he can see snow falling in the light of a street-lamp. Harry is sitting on his coach, petting Chopper on his lab, while checking his phone for messages.  
Louis wrote him a few times, but Harry ignored him. He doesn't want to deal with the other man right now.  
He sighs a little, before he smiles down at his dog, a bit sadly "I guess it's just us, hm?"  
"Harry!" a voice calls, and he nearly let's his phone drop "Oi, Harry! Open up!"

After getting over his first shock, he shoos Chopper from his lab and lets his phone slide into his pocket before he makes his way to the door.  
"Zayn" he says, when he opens the door and the green-haired man is leaning against the door frame, with Niall and a whole lot of people, some Harry knows from around, some he has never seen before, behind him.  
"Merry Christmas, buddy" Zayn grins, "Ready to party?"

"It's gonna be super!" a blue haired man shouts, from the small crowd behind Zayn and Niall, waving what appears to be beer bottles around. Harry blinks a bit.  
"But I told you-"

"Yeah" Zayn shrugs "Louis is not here though is he?" "How did you...?"  
"Call it intuition" Zayn smiles a bit sheepishly and Niall rolls his eyes and says "Marimo ears-dropped. The walls are thin around here"  
"Oh" he just says.

"So? Are you coming or what?"

The party is...well, loud, big, crowded and the smell of sweat and alcohol hangs in the air. People are dancing together, and having fun. He is sitting at the bar with Zayn and Niall, and his face actually hurts from smiling.  
If it weren't for Zayn he would have spend Christmas moping around at home, he is grateful for the other man. He looks around and laughs when he sees Franky dancing like a robot. This is fun. God, he can't remember the last time he had fun like this.  
He didn't even notice how unhappy he was.

This might not be how Christmas with his brother was, at home, warm, familiar, playing games, but at least he is having fun, doing something.  
"Thanks for...you know...taking me with you guys" Harry smiles.

"No need to thank me, man. I'm just happy you are here" Zayn grins, before taking the last sip of his beer, just to order another one.  
"So...things over between you and the cheater?" Niall asks, drinking a cocktail that Zayn titled as "Unmanly".

"Don't call him that" Harry answers over the sound of the music, grabbing a few nuts out of the little bowl in front of him, before shoving them into his mouth.  
"Why not?" the blond snorts, "He is unfaithful, right?" "Yes" Harry admits, "But-"  
"No buts, Harry" Zayn says then, opening up another beer "Stop making excuses for him"  
He wants to say something, but finds, that he actually doesn't have an answer to that.  
"So?" Niall then starts again "Are you guys over?"

They are looking both at him now, expecting an answer. But the truth is? He doesn't even know himself. To be honest, if they are strict about it, there is nothing that could be over. They never had something serious to begin with. It's not like they ever slapped a label on what they were. Harry likes to think it was more than a simple affair, too much feelings involved and that not only from his side. It's not like Louis doesn't care about him.  
So what exactly is over now? If it's even over? Does he want it to be? "I don't know" he answers then, speaking the truth.  
"Oh well," Niall says then before he smirks and elbows Zayn in the side "You still have the shitty marimo if you get lonely"  
"Oi, you-" Zayn starts angrily, but gets interrupted by Harry's laugh.

"Oh man" the green-haired man smiles then, probably forgetting that he was just about to start a fight with his worst friend again, patting Harry on his back "I've missed that laugh"  
"God" Niall grins then, before Harry can answer "Marimo, you are corny. Is that you flirting? Really? I thought I would never see the day"  
"Shut up, curly brow" Zayn just says and Harry can't help but laugh again.

Coming here was a good idea, he decides, although Louis is still in the back of his mind, always present, and he feels a tinge of sadness when he things about the other man, he is having a great time right now.  
He has made some good friends.

It's about 2am when he reaches his apartment complex, and he is tired as fuck. He left Niall and Zayn at the bar, both of them getting too drunk to talk with. They were talking about how much their friendship means to them, how they are like brothers, buddies for life and Harry was seriously just about to film their drunken confessions of brotherly love.  
He chuckles a little at the thought, these two are hilarious when drunk.

He walks through the badly lit hallway to his apartment, when he suddenly stops in his tracks.  
There is a man, leaning against the wall, sitting on the floor in a black coat and Harry doesn't need the room to be illuminated to recognize who that is.  
"Louis" he says then, suddenly not so sleepy anymore, a little bit breathlessly, walking the last few meters to the man, still in disbelieve.  
Louis looks up at the sound of his voice echoing through the hallway. "God" the older man says then, before he stands up "I thought you would never come home"  
"Why-" Harry starts, and, fuck, he can't stop the happy feeling spreading inside his chest at the sight of the 26-year old man.  
"I promised, didn't I?" "How-?"  
"Unimportant" Louis just waves him off, and Harry is sure the man just fed Eleanor some lie. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter and he doesn't care, because Louis is here right now and he won't leave to be with the pink-haired girl, won't leave him alone.

He moves his hand to his cheek then and says "You have-"

"Yeah" Louis says and grins, mimicking the action on his own, red cheek, "For such a tiny girl, Eleanor sure as hell knows how to deliver a punch"  
He had a fight with her. He actually had a fight with her, because of him, because he is selfish, and he wants, because he can't contain his need and-  
"We can still have a nice Christmas, right?" Louis pulls him out of his thoughts, his voice sounds uncertain now, as if he isn't so sure he deserves Harry's forgiveness yet.  
Harry smiles softly at him and says "Sure" and "I'm glad you are here"

Louis left Eleanor to be with him, waited in front of his door, not sure if Harry will come back at all, just to spend his time with him. He lets out a breath he didn't knew he had been holding, he feels relived, happy.  
"Me too"


	8. IN THE SIDELINES

It's a week after Christmas, the air is cold, it's snowing and Harry spend the whole morning cleaning up his side of the pavement. Even if he knows the snow is not gonna stop and tomorrow morning he will have to do the same again. He brought a banquet of flowers to his sister's grave, after that. Harry choose them carefully, making sure the flowers can live for a while in the cold air before they start to wither. Robin, the black haired woman he met at Eleanor's birthday, helped him decide. She works at the new flower shop that is on his way to the cemetery and Harry has to admit, it was nice seeing her again. Now though, he is on his way to Louis' apartment, and his chucks are already drenched, his socks wet, his feet cold. He knows he needs new shoes, he knows Louis will make a fuss the moment he sees him. He smiles a bit to himself, if he is honest, he likes Louis caring about him. Of course he does, he drinks up every affectionate action he can get out of the older man.

There is a slight spring in his step, because he can't contain how happy he is, still not over Louis spending Christmas with him. It makes him giggle stupidly, makes him blush and hide his face in his hands when he thinks about it. It will forever be something he keeps in his heart, because the night was special. Not because it was Christmas, no, it was just because Louis was there, when Harry needed him.

He connects Christmas with Gemma, connects this day with memories of games, and fun, a lot of laughter and happiness. Louis brought that back for him, and Harry can't even explain how grateful he is for that.  
. . .

He takes the lift up to Louis' apartment, bouncing on his feet, impatient to see Louis again. God, he is in a great mood and he can't help but let a smile stretch over his face. It seems like his and Louis' relationship is finally going somewhere, if Louis leaves Eleanor for him on Christmas, if he is important enough for him to do that, if he is that special to him, more so than his girlfriend, then yes, their relationship is finally going into the right direction. It makes Harry happy, makes him smile stupidly.

His smile drops promptly though, when the door of the lift slides open, and he sees Eleanor at the end of the hall, standing in the door frame of her and Louis' apartment, hand gripping the doorknob.  
He hears a "As if you fucking care!" screamed in a high and girly voice and then the sound of a door getting slammed rings through the hallway.

Harry gulps, leaving the lift, to walk towards Eleanor. There is no other way to go for him.

"Oh, it's you, I-" the brown haired girl says when she notices him, smiling a bit embarrassed, swiping her hand quickly over her wet, rosy cheeks. "I didn't notice you" she says then, before mentioning behind her "Sorry for that"

She clearly has been crying. Her face is red, eyes wet and swollen, glassy. Her nose is running and she looks miserable.

"I-, you- I mean," Harry starts, and swallows hard, his heart heavy and his happiness from before has vanished completely, leaving nothing but guilt "Are you alright?"

"What?" she asks, eyes widening "I-, yes, of course, I'm fine" she smiles a little bit, and it's clear that she is desperately trying to convince him, but her determination doesn't seem to last long, because suddenly she starts to shake her head. Her thin lips quiver a bit and then she mumbles "No, I'm not alright, I-, feel like...I mean...Can we talk? Do you have a moment?"

Harry nods, a bit taken aback. This is too much for him. This is the worst. He doesn't want to talk to Eleanor about her problems with Louis.

She smiles a bit, "I just-, you know, you are Louis' best friend, right? I mean, I know he has Ashton and Calum, but he talks to you and I just, I have been feeling like we have been drifting apart for the last few months and I-" she laughs a bit shaking her head, and there are tears threatening to fall down her face again "I know it's not like couples don't fight, but this feels different and I can't explain it, I feel like...there might be someone else... you know what I mean?"

Harry just nods again. He is listening, but he can't say a word. Afraid that his voice will betray him.

"But I don't think he would do that" she looks troubled, but there is a soft look on her face when she says "Louis is not that kind of person...right?"

Harry takes in a sharp breath. This is it, this is what he knew would happen didn't he? His sins catching up, confronting him.

No, no, no, no, his mind repeats. He can barely look Eleanor in her watery hazel eyes, can barely breath. He is a bad liar to begin with, and then there is this annoying and stupid little voice in his head, telling him to just say the truth. What would happen then? If he just lays it all out? Would Eleanor slap him? Break up with Louis? Would he be finally his? With Eleanor out of the picture, he would be. Right? Harry takes a deep breath. Louis would finally be his. 

"What are you doing?"

Louis stands at the door, looking angry and confused, throwing Harry out of balance, pulling him out of his thoughts, and before he can even open his mouth, Eleanor has already twirled around, pink hair swaying, to glare at Louis, before she spits "None of your business!"

"You're gonna be late, Eleanor" Louis just says simply, but there's a hint of anger in his voice, and Harry can feel the ice-cold tension between them. He never felt as uncomfortable in his life.

Eleanor just makes a "Tzch" sound, before turning to leave, lifting her middle- finger in the air saying "Don't expect me to come home tonight"

Louis doesn't say anything, stares after her and just lets out a heavy sigh, it's only then, when Eleanor left that Louis turns his attention to him, as if noticing him for the first time.  
Is he that invincible next to Eleanor?

"What are you standing around for?" he says, opening the door for him, holding it open, and Harry nods, before finally getting his feet to work again.  
The apartment is a mess.

Harry only knows it clean and organized, but now glass and porcelain covers the ground, shattered and broken. A sign of what had happened in this apartment before Harry came, allowing him to see what goes on in Louis' relationship at the moment, even if it's only a glimpse.

"That bad, mh?" he just asks, as Louis kneels down to pick up the pieces of glass carefully.

Louis snorts, "She's got bad temper" and Harry joins Louis on the floor, picking up the broken pieces, the leftover of Eleanor's rage. He feels bad. This is his fault as well.

"She thinks you are cheating" Harry says, and Louis makes a hectic movement in shock, fingers slipping, cutting himself on the broken and sharp edge of a glass splitter.

"Shit" he curses, standing up holding his bleeding finger, before walking to the kitchen, getting a paper towel, pressing it to his wound "She said that? What else?"

"She said that she thinks there is someone else, but she doesn't believe you are that kinda person" He stands up now, looking at Louis who looks to the ground, guilty. "She is just guessing" he says, taking a step closer to Louis, inspecting his finger, the wound is already bleeding through the white fabric. "Band-aid?" he asks, and Louis nods.

"Second drawer, on the right"

Harry moves to get the band-aid, before carefully putting it around Louis' bleeding finger. "There" he grins slightly "All patched up"

"Thanks, doctor" Louis smiles, giving him a light kiss on his forehead. Harry feels the heat rising in his cheeks, can't help it, even after all this time he spend close to Louis, affectionate gestures like this make him flustered.

"Be more careful next time" he just mumbles, although it's rich, coming from him. He can't even count how often he has cut his own fingers accidentally.

"Will do" Louis says, and then he feels a warm hand cradling his face, lifting it up to look at Louis, before he feels soft lips pushing against his own. He inhales against Louis' mouth in surprise, before closing his eyes, giving in to the feeling of Louis' lips pressed against his own, pushing close to the others warm body. He instantly feels Louis' strong arm around his waist, and he buries his hands in the others hair as an answer. And here he is again, overwhelmed by the feelings he has for Louis, so much, that it completely submerges the guilt he has felt before.

"I've been waiting for this" Louis mumbles against his lips and Harry feels himself getting guided by Louis' body, until he is pushed up against the kitchen counter, and Louis' kiss turns more forceful after that, attacking his mouth, biting his lips.

He tries to answer with the same force, tries to counter Louis' desire with his own want. But Louis' fingers grip his waist painfully, and the gentle kiss they shared in the beginning quickly turns to something Harry can't keep up with. It's strange but he can't help but feel, that right now, this kiss is an outlet for the taller man. Standing in the remains of Louis' and Eleanor's fight, broken glass surrounding them, crushing beneath their shoes, he can feel all of Louis' rage in one single kiss, and it leaves him breathless in the worst way.

"Hey," he pants, between kisses, letting out a whine when Louis bites at his throat, his hands pushing against his chest "You are angry, lets-"

"What?" Louis asks sharply, once Harry managed to put distance between them.  
"I-" Harry starts, confused "I think we should talk about it, Eleanor, I mean." Louis shakes his head, frowning, taking a step closer to him again   
"What is there to talk about? So she thinks I'm cheating" Louis rolls his eyes "She is just guessing, you said it yourself"  
He tries to get his thoughts clear, it's hard to do, with Louis so close, invading his space.

"Don't you care?" he asks then, his little confrontation, if you can call it that, with Eleanor left him wondering. "What do you want?"

"I-" Louis starts, and then his brows furrow, mouth a thin line "Why are we talking about this?"

"You love her" Harry says, although it's hard to get the words to leave his lips, hurts him to say it out loud "So what do you want with me?"  
}  
Louis looks a little bewildered at his questioning, looks like he would rather talk about anything else, but this. But Harry needs to know. Louis is fighting with Eleanor because of him, because he always leaves her to be with him, but he doesn't want to break up with her, he still loves her. It doesn't make sense.

"I don't wanna talk about this with you, I-" Louis starts and then lets out a frustrated noise, like he can't handle that much confrontation in one day, and maybe he has a point, maybe Harry should give him a break. But he can't right now, not when he sees exactly how Louis' relationship is falling apart, when he thinks about how he can't let that happen, when Louis still loves Eleanor. It would hunt him. If he lets Louis ruin his relationship because of him, even if he doesn't really want him, if he still wants Eleanor and doesn't realize it, it would follow him until he dies. He can't let Louis make that mistake.

Maybe that is the guilt speaking inside of him, but seeing Eleanor, angry and hurting, because of Louis, because of him, made him feel sick. Made him feel like scum.

"You know what Ashton said?" Louis mumbles then, chuckling a little bit drily, unamused, before taking another step closer, until he is pushing Harry firmly against the counter again. He feels Louis' hands on his waist, fingers slipping underneath his shirt, digging into his bare skin, and Harry can't help but shiver at the feeling.

"He said I should just fuck it out" Louis says, close to his ear, voice dark. Harry's breath hitches a bit. "He said one guy doesn't make me gay" the other man continues and Harry doesn't like where this is going, he squirms a bit in Louis' grip, but finds himself utterly trapped by the taller man.  
"Louis-" he starts, but the other shakes his head, interrupting him   
"He said if I just fuck you, you know, get it out of my system, kill my curiosity, then I will be able to get over it, over you"

Harry takes in a sharp breath, Louis can be cruel, with his words, with how he disregards him like this. Louis truly is hard to love. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard" he gets out, because it is. But it's also the most hurtful thing Louis ever said to him, and maybe his voice betrays him a little, breaking at the end. Because it's not like his and Louis' relationship is build on purely sexual desire, not like Louis doesn't care for him. He knows Louis does, he knows there are feelings involved, and maybe Louis doesn't know yet what he wants, but he can't just fuck it out and then be over him. It doesn't work like that, not in their case. Maybe Louis was first driven towards him by his lust and curiosity but they have passed that stage the moment Louis left Eleanor for him on Christmas, and maybe even before that. Their relationship has never been only about sex, their meetings never only consisted about them getting it on. Even if they did fool around sometimes, even if Louis experienced with him, Harry doesn't believe that it's the only reason Louis cheats on Eleanor with him. He could have found someone else for that. He doesn't think Louis would use him that way.

"Right?" Louis smiles a bit, crookedly, and then Harry feels Louis' mouth pressed to his own in a harsh and hot kiss. He lets out a noise of surprise, Louis has caught him in the crossfire of his own thoughts, pushing his tongue in his mouth, wet and hot, and fuck, if Louis wants to fuck it out so badly, Harry will not stop him, because it wouldn't change anything, but if Louis needs fucking proof, then Harry won't deny him that. So he pushes back, pushes closer, gives him a piece of what awaits him. He buries his hands into Louis hair, pulling the other man into him. He kisses back just as harsh and rough, grinding against him making Louis pant a "Fuck" into his mouth and Harry can't help but smirk a bit into their kiss.

He lets his hand run down Louis' back, tugging at Louis' shirt, "Off" he murmurs impatiently, and Louis complies his wishes almost instantly, taking his shirt off. Harry stares a bit, because fuck, Louis looks so good, the black ink on the mans tanned skin only adding to the view. Louis doesn't let him watch for long though, pushing at the hem of Harry's own shirt, pulling it over his head, before attacking his mouth again. He can feel Louis' large hands sliding down his bare chest, thump grazing his nipple and he lets out a satisfied noise into Louis' mouth.

Somehow they end up in Louis' bedroom, no, Louis' and Eleanor's bedroom, and it's the first time he is in here and it feels weird, and he doesn't like it one bit. But then he gets roughly thrown onto the bed, Louis crawling after him, hovering above him and shit, what was he thinking again? He moves his hand to Louis' belt, opening the buckle, before pulling down his zipper, anticipation pooling hot in his stomach. This is nothing new, they have done this before.

What they haven't done before is Louis having him on his hands and knees, two fingers deep in his ass, opening him up for more. Because every time he hinted at Louis that it's okay to go on, when he gave him the green light, Louis never did anything, still too unsure, too confused. But now Louis is moving his fingers inside of him with purpose, and it nearly makes Harry want to drop to his elbows, makes him want to moan loudly, move his hips back to fuck himself on Louis' fingers.

"Can't believe how much you love this" Louis murmurs, and Harry only whines as an answer, when Louis twists his fingers inside of him "Tell me when you are-"

"I'm ready, fuck" Harry interrupts, and let's out a displeased noise when he feels Louis' fingers leave his hole, leaving him open, wet and stretched out of his mind.  
He tries to turn around but then he feels strong hands holding his hips  
"Like this" Louis says, firmly holding him in place.  
"No" Harry bites back, maybe a little bit angry, before quickly turning around in Louis' grip, opening his legs for Louis to get in between, pulling him down by the neck "I want to see you" he murmurs against Louis' mouth, before pressing his lips to Louis' in an open mouthed and harsh kiss.

He feels Louis' cock sliding along his inner thigh, hard and heavy, and shit, it fuels Harry with a sense of accomplishment, that he can get Louis hard.

"C'mon" he urges Louis on, pulling the other into him, hooking his ankles around Louis' waist, pulling the other man close, until he feels Louis' cock teasingly slide across his hole, pushing against it.

"You want this so badly?" Louis asks, and yes, yes, shit. He wants it. Has been wanting it for a while now. His heart is beating hard in his chest.

"I want all of this" he says, quietly, and Louis doesn't really listen to him, already pushing his cock into him. And he shuts his eyes tightly at the feeling, overwhelmed. Because yes, he wants it all. He wants full commitment, he wants kisses that say more than words, he wants to breath Louis in, gasping for his love. This is what he wants.

"Fuck, you are tight" Louis gasps, close to his ear, breath hot against his skin "Tell me when I can-"

"Don't move" he says, trying to keep his voice from shaking, because shit, it's been a while, and while he is so ready for it, wants it so badly, his body has to get used to it. Louis' hasty stretching hasn't been nearly enough.

He takes a few calming breaths, takes a moment, before pushing his hips against Louis to show him that it's okay. Louis gets it immediately, pulling out, before shoving into him again, before kissing him. Harry lets out a breathless moan into the kiss, hot against Louis' lips, when he feels Louis' cock pushing against his spot, stretching him and filling him so completely. He closes his eyes tightly, drowning in the feeling of Louis taking him, taking his body, his heart and his mind. And it's cruel, the way he feels overwhelmed by the feeling of love and knowing Louis doesn't feel the same. In fact, when Louis breaks the kiss, he isn't even looking at him, focusing on a spot above his head, and Harry knows exactly what Louis is trying to do. He grits his teeth, pushing against Louis, before pulling him down into him, arms around his neck, hands buried tightly in Louis' hair, until his mouth is against Louis' ear, and the other man lets out a low groan at the rough treatment.

"You can't ignore me, Louis" he mumbles, breathless, quietly into Louis' ear, "You are fucking a man, you can't ignore this"

"Fuck you" Louis says, voice broken, pushing himself up on his hands, pushing his cock harder into him, and Harry lets out a broken moan at the feeling. Louis fills him perfectly, and every shove into him sends a wave of pleasure through his whole body, and he feels it in his fingertips, feels it in his toes, feels it in his entire being as if he is being swallowed by ecstasy. Louis looks at him then, his words must have brought him back to reality. Louis' brows are furrowed in concentration, but his eyes are dark with lust, and Harry drowns in them. His heart heavy, beating hard against his chest. It's painful how much he feels for Louis. How much love he has in his heart for the man.

And he wants to tell Louis, he wants to spill it, and the words are on his tongue, like a burden he wants to get rid off. He has been carrying this feelings around for far too long, and he knows, Louis cares for him too, he has to. This wouldn't make sense otherwise, now would it? He wants to say, I love you, but he bites his words back, and what comes out when he opens his mouth is "Harder"  
Louis is panting above him, hot breath against the side of his face, and says, "Harder? Yeah?" already slamming into him roughly, making Harry clench his eyes tightly for a moment.

"Yeah" he breaths, voice wrecked "C'mon, I can take it"

His words must have fueled a new fire in Louis, because the older man doesn't seem to hold back anymore. Slamming into him with full force, turning him into a quivering mess underneath him, hands tightly clenching the bedspread. He feels Louis' cock driving into him repeatedly, hitting his spot with each thrust, making him go insane.

"Don't..ah, fucking stop" he pants out, his hips trying to keep up with Louis' fast pace, pushing against him. He is loosing his mind.

"God, you-" Louis starts, and he looks as overwhelmed as Harry feels, his face crunched up in pleasure as he fucks him into the mattress, pushing into him harsh and ruthless. This is not what people call making love, this is filled with rage and anger, but it fuels his body anyway, his desire and love for Louis overbearing, crushing him, wrecking him.

"Louis" he gets out, voice breathless, "Please"

And it's as if Louis understood him without words, as he hovers above him, before he crashes his mouth into his own in a hot and passionate kiss. He buries his hands into Louis' messy hair, pushing him closer, lips pressed together, bruising. Jolts of excitement fly up and down his spine, as Louis slides a hand into his hair, leaning on his elbow now, their chest pressed together, skin on skin, heart to heart. He moans into the kiss, and feels Louis' tongue invading his mouth, hot and wet, and he answers with his own force, with his own want and desire, wants to overwhelm Louis with it, just as the man overwhelms him in every single way, leaves him suffocating in his own feelings. His love for Louis dares to drown him, now more than ever.

Louis' cock is still ramming into him, the older man getting faster and wilder with each passing moment, and Harry has to break the kiss, letting out a loud desperate moan. He can tell he is close, so he sneaks his hands between their bodies, because he knows Louis won't touch him, so he jerks himself off, pushing into his hand, and onto Louis' cock at the same time, not knowing what pleasure to chase first.

"I'm close, fuck-" Louis breaths, hot against his cheek, and Harry nods frantically.

"Me too, just-" and then Louis shoves in hard, hitting his prostate, and it's all it takes for him, pleasure crashes over him, and he holds on tightly to Louis, as his orgasm hits him full force. He let's out a broken cry, his nails scratching Louis' back, and he doesn't fucking care that he leaves marks on him now, he doesn't care anymore.  
He wants to leave his mark on Louis.

Louis is still fucking into him when he comes down from his high "C'mon" he murmurs, letting Louis slam into him as hard as he wants to, even though it's getting uncomfortable. It's only a second later that Louis comes into him with a curse and a dark groan, pushing in deep, filling him up with his warm seed, and Harry closes his eyes at the feeling, can't help but twitch underneath Louis in pleasure. This is it. This is the closeness that he yearns for, this is what he wanted for so long. Louis lets himself lie on top of him, body heavy, warm and pliant, and Harry doesn't mind.

"Goddamn" Louis breathes, against the side of his neck, his voice rough.

"Yeah" he agrees, lets his hand run down Louis' sweaty back, before the older man rolls off of him, pulling the blankets over their bodies. He slides his fingertips over the black ink on Louis' arm, following the lines, absentmindedly, tracing the patterns of his tattoos.

"I like them" he mumbles quietly, not wanting to break the calm atmosphere that has settled over them, now that Louis' rage has subsided "I know I've said it before. But they really suit you"

"Should I tell you a secret?" Louis asks, after a while, and Harry looks up at the older man, nodding "I only became a surgeon because of Eleanor"

"What?" he asks, surprised at the sudden confession "I always thought you loved your job?!"

"I do, I do" Louis says, calmly, and Harry hasn't seen him so satisfied in a long time "I thought maybe I could be an tattoo artist" Louis looks a bit embarrassed, as if he is admitting this for the first time   
"But I thought working in the medical field is more stable, and I've to support Eleanor too, and pay for this huge piece of junk, that Eleanor fell in love with"

"You mean your apartment?" Harry asks, and he can't help but feel like that these words and emotions, have been carried around in Louis' heart for a very long time.

"Yeah" Louis agrees, "I thought about how someday I might gonna marry her, and we are gonna have kids, and all that, so I thought choosing to be a surgeon was the smart thing to do" He ignores how his chest hurts at the mention of marriage and kids, and tries to focus on Louis' problem. This is not about him.

"Eleanor only works for a minimum wage at Pizza Hut, and her paintings-"  
"Huh?" he interrupts Louis, "Paintings?"

"Yeah, she is an artist, got a whole atelier downtown, but she barely makes any money with that" Louis answers, before he makes a face "Come to think of it, I'm paying for that too" . Eleanor sounds like a gold digger, he doesn't say, because he knows it can't be true.

"I could imagine you as a tattoo artist" he just says, simply. Trying to cheer Louis up again, to make him smile. It's a reason for a lot of things he does lately.

"Yeah?" Louis grins, and Harry feels a warm hand sliding over his chest "Would you let me put a tattoo on you?"

"Maybe"

There's a little glint in Louis' eyes, when he smiles at him, and Harry feels something loosening in his chest, making him breath more easily again. Louis just can't fuck it out of his system, can't just do him and be done with him. Because in one way or another, he gets under Louis' skin, makes him re think, and maybe that is enough for the other man to commit fully to him, someday.

"Sleep now" Louis mumbles, pulling him into his body, pressing a soft kiss against his temple.  
It's easy to fall asleep with Louis holding him close, sharing his warmth and his heartbeat with him. He never felt as secure and loved.

. . .

It's already dark when he wakes up.

"C'mon" he hears, voice urgent in his ear, pulling him out of his sleep "Fuck, I said wake up" . There is a hand, roughly shoving his shoulder, and he swats at it, before realizes that the hand belongs to Louis. The other man is in front of him, jeans halfway on, button still undone, his chest still bare. It's a sexy sight, Harry thinks, and wonders if Louis woke him up for another round.

"Eleanor texted me saying she is on her way here" Louis says, searching for his shirt on the floor "She wants to talk". Harry's finally awake fully now, but his mind is still trying to catch up with the situation.

"You should leave now" Louis says, calmly giving him back his clothes "I'm sorry". Louis is throwing him out.

"It's okay" he says, although he has to swallow the lump in his throat "I understand". He gets his clothes on, while Louis quickly changes the bed sheets, until nothing in this room indicates what had been going on in here before. Louis hides it well.

"I'm gonna see myself out" he says then, already turning to leave, and fuck, he feels dirty, used. But he doesn't get as far as he would like to, because Louis moves in front of him suddenly, close, invading his space, before he leans down to pull him in his arms.

Harry lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, pushing himself close to Louis. His heart expanding. "I'm sorry" Louis says, when he lets him go again, sending him an apologetic glance, "I'm gonna make up for it, I swear"

He doesn't know how Louis wants to make up for it but says, "It's alright" anyway, because what else can he retort to that? It's only when he is outsides Louis' apartment, darkness surrounding him, and the cold air hits him, that he lets his anger go.

"Fuck" he curses, fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to punch someone. He kicks a near trashcan instead, and his feet hurt, as the loud clank of metal rings through the night, and his blood boils, and he does it again and again, desperately.

He hates it.

He hates this so much, and he doesn't know how long he can cope with it. He doesn't know how long he will be able to play this game of hide 'n' seek.

He truly is sick of it.


	9. LIES

He lifts his hand a little bit hesitantly, before rolling his eyes at himself, and knocking on Zayn's door. It's not like it's that late, he reasons, and he left his dog at Zayn's place. Besides that, he doesn't think the man would mind him visiting, whatever time it may be.

Zayn’s door is always open for him, has been since he moved in next to the older man. And after he left Louis' place, got thrown out, he doesn't feel like being alone.  
The door opens and Zayn blinks at him, maybe a little bit bewildered. He is already in his shorts and shirt, and Harry wonders if Zayn was just about to go to bed. He knows the other man has to work early in the morning, so it would make sense. He feels a little bit bad for bothering him.

"Hey" Zayn says, opening his door wider, a sign that he can come in "You wanna get Bobby, mh?"

"Yes" Harry halflies, following Zayn to his living room, where his little fur ball already greets him, sniffing his legs, wagging his tail in excitement.

"Hey there, buddy" he just grins down, petting Bobby's head a bit, "Have you been a good boy? Did you piss on Zayn's carpet like I told you to?" he asks, and laughs when Zayn shoves his arm a bit. "I'm just joking, chill" he smiles, rubbing his arm a little, even though it didn't hurt "You know he doesn't do that"

"I know" Zayn says, sitting himself down on his couch, patting the spot next to him. Harry follows the unspoken request, after he took his jacket off, sitting next to Zayn, making himself comfortable. "So what's bugging you?"

"Mh?" he asks, while lifting Bobby up on his lap, who settles down on his legs happily.

"You look miserable" The black haired man just replies "Did you have a fight with Louis?"

"Funny, that you think everything in my life surrounds around him" Harry just says, without bite, because Zayn is right, and he hates it. Hates that his mood depends on Louis so much, that the other man can drag him down like this.

"Doesn't it?" Zayn asks back, and Harry furrows his brows "Last week you were a little ball of sunshine, because he spend Christmas with you, and now you're back to being miserable. Don't tell me Louis isn't the cause for your unhappiness"

"I slept with him" he admits, absentmindedly petting Bobby "And then he kicked me out, because Eleanor texted him that she will come home to talk, and they are probably making up right now and-"

"Whoa, calm down" Zayn says, when he notices how Harry talks himself into rage.

"I'm jealous!" Harry says, raising his voice, and now that he put it into words, spilled it right out, he feels his feelings crush over him, like a wave, drowning him "He shouldn't mess with me like that!"

"You are being quite aggressive about this," Zayn observes, "And I get you, honestly, but you knew what you were getting into, didn't you? What did you expect him to do?"

Harry blinks a bit "I...I don't know, but-"

"Do you think he would text her back saying that she shouldn't come around, cause he's busy rolling around in the sheets with you?"

"No, I mean-" Harry stammers, and shakes his head "On which side are you on?!"

"On yours" Zayn says, and shrugs his shoulders "Doesn't mean I can't tell you what I think. Sure, what he does is wrong and unfair to the both of you. Hell, I think you should end whatever you have with him as soon as you can, but you know he doesn't want Eleanor to find out, so he really had no other choice"

"I'm just tired of feeling like I'm fucking insane for loving him so much and for doing this" he gets out, swallowing the lump in his throat. He knows Zayn is right, but he thought that the black haired man would be more comforting, he just needed somebody to understand. He shakes his head "Forget it, I'm leaving" he stands up, Bobby in his arms, he just wants to go home, but he doesn't come far, Zayn holding him back by his wrist, his fingers gripping tightly, pulling him back, making Bobby jump away from his arms at the hectic movement.

"Don't be angry at me" Zayn says, soothingly, before pulling him into a hug "You know I just want you to be happy, but you give more than he does, you just... give him too much"  
He doesn't say anything, let's himself be embraced by his friend, soaking in his warmth, shutting his eyes tightly. He just doesn't know what to do anymore, he is barely hanging on, and he feels overwhelmed with everything that life, that Louis, has been throwing at him in the past months. He laid his soul, his mind, and his body bare for him, and Louis took it all, and left him with nothing but a war on his mind.

"I know" he breathes, "It just gets really hard from time to time"

"Yeah" Zayn mumbles, and he still holding him, as if he knows that this is exactly what Harry needs right now, exactly what he came here for, "Just...I haven't seen you so down since you moved here"  
He takes in a sharp breath, because he knows what Zayn is saying right now, what he really means, since you moved here - since your sister died. It's the same thing, Zayn knows.  
"I promised Gemma to be happy" Harry says, and it's hard to get the words out, even if he feels understood and content in Zayn's arms "Even with him gone, I told myself not to lose my smile, but I'm just so angry and sad and-"

"Louis can't make you happy" Zayn states, and it sounds final, as if he decided that for Harry. He doesn't say anything to that, leaning against the older man's broad shoulder, enjoying the warmth the other provides him with. And he has to swallow hard, because what if Zayn is right? What if Louis will never be able to make him happy? What if all his trying, all his love, has been wasted, has been for nothing, if it all has been for naught. Just the thought of that makes his eyes water, tears threatening to spill over the edge. He doesn't know what he would do then. Louis has become his everything in such short time, and he can't bear losing him. Because there is no one else left for him to love. He doesn't have anybody else.

He clenches his fingers a bit in Zayn's shirt, as he feels tears sliding over his hot cheeks, and he tries to use his voice, to tell Zayn that Louis sometimes makes him happy, in his most honest moments, but all that comes out of him is a desperate noise and strangled sob. And as the night goes on, he holds on to Zayn, his rock, his one constant in a world that's always moving, always changing, and he cries, let's out his despair that has been bottled-up inside of him for far too long.

The next morning he feels completely worn-out. Pouring his feelings out just made him feel empty. He sits at Zayn's small kitchen table, drinking orange juice, wearing his shorts and shirt from yesterday, while Zayn stands at the stove. The smell of bacon and coffee fills the room, and only the sound of the radio, prevents them from total silence. He blinks a bit tiredly, yawing without holding his hand in front of his mouth, looking out of the window, where the sun is just rising, where the snow glistens on the ground. It's a nice view, and if he weren't so tired he would actually appreciate it.  
It's too early to be awake. But Zayn has to go to work and he can't stay here forever.

"Here" Zayn says, when he turns around and puts the delicious smelling bacon on his plate, "Careful, don't burn yourself" he adds, when he notices how Harry starts eating carelessly.

"Thank you" he grins, mouth full. Zayn makes a face but doesn't say anything. This morning, talking seems to be overrated. He feels a wet nose nudge his feet under the table, followed by a little whine. Harry rolls his eyes, and mumbles "You know you shouldn't beg" but gives in and, shares some of his bacon, making sure it's not too hot for Bobby to eat.  
Zayn sits across from him now, eating toast, sipping from his coffee mug every now and then.

"Do you like your food?"

"Yes" he says "Almost as good as Niall's" Zayn rolls his eyes but says, "Good"

He grins, munches his breakfast down like a champion, before going to the bedroom, where he left his jeans. He picks them up from the floor, carelessly, and his phone drops out from his jeans pocket and on the carpet with a little thud. He sighs, before picking it up again, and his eyes widen a bit when he notices how he has three missed calls and nine messages from Louis. What the fuck.

He quickly scans through them, starting off with the oldest one.

00:34 I feel bad for kicking you out, I'm sorry, let me make up for it by taking you out next time.

00:35 Ashton said I should tell you that I got more than one way to make it up to you...he also said I should add this: ;) So there.

Ashton knows, huh? Louis said it yesterday, but he hasn't really had time to think about it. He wonders what the other guy thinks of him now.

1:02 Please don't be angry.

He raises his eyebrow a little when he sees that the next six messages are all from this morning.

6:30 Hey, I'm on my way to your apartment, I've got something to tell you. 

6:31 That sounded really serious. It's a good thing, though. Don't worry.

6:50 I'm there now. Why aren't you opening up? Are you still angry? 

7:09 Harry? I'm waiting at your front door. I said I'm sorry!

7:22 Seriously, didn't you come home last night? Did something happen? 

7:43 Please open up, you are making me worry.

He quickly looks at the clock on his phone, 7:50, Louis might still be there. So he rushes to the kitchen, hastily trying to get his jeans on.

"I've got to go" Zayn says, already standing at the door, "Don't forget your jacket"

"Yes!" he says, and hurries after Zayn, grabbing his jacket on the way, and calling out for Bobby, who slowly taps from the kitchen towards him, like he would rather stay where the smell of food lingers.  
He understands Bobby, he would rather stay there too.

Zayn opens the door for him, and when he walks through, the first thing he sees is Louis, standing in the hallway in front of his apartment. His dog walks up to Louis the moment he sees him, excitingly wagging his tail. Traitor, Harry thinks.

"There you are!" Louis says, giving Bobby the attention he wants from him, tattooed hand petting the fur softly, and Harry isn't sure if he is angry or not "It's impossible to reach you, you know that?!"

"Good morning to you too" he just says and tries to keep his excitement out of his voice. He is still angry, or well, he tries to be at least. It's not that easy with Louis. Zayn mumbles a "Mornin" before leaving, but not without giving Harry a slight pat on his ass.

Unnecessarily, he thinks, but he knows Zayn is just being Zayn.

He sees Louis furrow his brows a bit, before he says "Did something happen?"

He decides quickly that Louis really doesn't need to know that he spend the night crying over him. So he shakes his head and says "No..."  
Louis points to his crotch "Your fly is open"

"I slept at his place and I just read your messages" which is not really an answer to why his fly is open. Whatever. Not like Louis cares.

"Alright" Louis just says, but he looks a bit troubled, "So are we gonna stand around here, or...?"

"No, no, I mean, yes" he says, and tries to get his keys out of his jacket pocket, before opening the door to his apartment, letting Louis and Bobby go in first. He closes the door, and before he can even blink, Louis steps right into his space, making Harry's back thud against the door.

"Are you angry with me?" Louis asks, and Harry avoids to look the other man in the eyes, keeping his gaze to the floor. What Zayn said was right. Louis had no other choice. But still, he's got a lot of reasons to be mad at Louis. Reasons that take him to the core of their relationship.

He feels Louis lift his chin with his finger, and Harry reluctantly looks at the taller man. He has to swallow hard, because unlike usual, Louis' emotions are blatantly displayed on his face. He is anxious, worried, uneasy.  
"I'm not" he says, it's a lie, but he can swallow his anger for now. He doesn't mind forgiving Louis.   
The other man smiles, relieved, and there is a teasing tone in his voice when he says "You should shower, you reek" Louis steps back from him with these words and Harry shrugs a bit, "I didn't get a chance to shower after last night"

"You should go now, can't stand you smelling like yesterdays garbage" Louis just says, finally taking his jacket off, before making his way to Harry's couch "I will wait here for you"  
He grins, and says, maybe more suggestively than he intended "Care to join me?"

"I would love to, but I'm afraid I don't have time for that, I've got to work in..." Louis looks at his watch "less than an hour, so hurry up". It was the quickest shower he ever took.

When he is cleaned and dried up, wearing fresh shorts and a shirt, he makes his way to Louis again, plopping right into the others lap.

"I'm clean!" he says, proudly and Louis chuckles.

"Wow, that was quick" Louis notes, and Harry feels Louis's warm hand sliding up his thigh, "Your hair is wet"

"Mhh, yeah" he mumbles, leaning against Louis's chest. Why was he angry again? He forgot.

"So, I've got some good news" Louis says, "That's why I'm here"

Harry leans back again to look at Louis, and nearly a hundred thoughts run through his mind at once, maybe Eleanor broke up with Louis last night, maybe Louis is telling him that he finally can be his, that this game is over, that he choose him, that there never was a choice he had to make anyway, that Harry can stop worrying. That he finally can be happy.

"So what is it?" he asks, barely keeping the excitement out of his voice, but with the way Louis looks at him, grins at him, really, it's got to be obvious anyway.

"Eleanor is leaving over the weekend" Louis says, and he smiles at him, thump sliding along the skin of his inner thigh "Some pretentious art festival or something...whatever, you know what that means?" he asks and looks expectantly at him, before answering the question himself "That means we've got the whole weekend to ourselves, sounds good, doesn't it?". That are Louis's good news?

He tries to hide his disappointment, tries to force a smile on his face, when he says "Yeah, awesome"

Louis looks at him irritated, obviously seeing through his facade "I thought you would be happy"

He nods quickly, "I am,..it's just...great" Just not what he expected Louis would say.

"Well you don't sound like it" Louis frowns "I thought you would be more...excited about us spending time together"

"No, it's..." Harry, starts, but then shakes his head, he doesn't want to fight with Louis now, still feeling to drained and emotionally wrecked from last night "We should do something tonight then"

"Yeah?" Louis perks up, "Like...?"

"I don't know, something fun" he just mumbles, shivering when he feels Louis's hand resting on his waist, squirming a bit at the touch.

"You wanna get wasted and then go to a club?" Harry snorts a bit, "That's your idea of fun?"

. . .  
Apparently it is.

He finds himself, maybe a bit too drunk, on the dancefloor at some overcrowded club. He feels Louis grinding himself into him to the beat of the music. He feels like the heat is eating him alive, the alcohol rushing through his veins, making everything appear hazy and surreal. He closes his eyes when he feels Louis's hands sliding around at his waist, his thump grazing the skin underneath his shirt. He can't help but shiver.

Louis pushes against him, and he can feel him slightly hard in his jeans, feels Louis' breath close to his ear, and he never felt as wanted as he does now. Never felt so completely free.

This night it's just the two of them.

Louis' hands keep him burning hot, and he feels like he is going down into paradise, right here on this dancefloor. He moves with Louis, follows his lead and puts his hands on Louis' tattooed ones, when he feels the older man sliding them along his thigh, brushing his crotch. He feels Louis' lips nip on his ear, his hot breath gazing the sensitive skin there and when the older man breaths "Let's get outta here", Harry's knees nearly buckle at the husky tone of Louis' voice.

He nods, and Louis takes his hand, to lead them through the crowd, until they make it to the exit. The cold air hits him, and he feels his head spinning and he let's Louis lead him, and in his alcoholic state he doesn't care where Louis goes with him, it doesn't matter because he would follow him anywhere. He feels himself pressed against a brick wall, in some dirty alley, and Louis laughs against his mouth, free and happy, when he kisses him, mouth pushing against his, and he can taste the malt liquor on Louis' tongue.

Louis' hands are hot under his shirt, burning where he touches him, and Harry let's out a breathless moan when he feels the taller man grinding his leg into his crotch. His back gets pressed even harder against the gritty wall, when Louis pushes even closer, until there is no space between them anymore.  
Louis' kisses are desperate and starving, making him go insane, his heart bursting nearly out of his chest. It's been a long time since he felt that alive, felt that burning heat in his stomach, felt drunk and out of control. It's a good feeling and he wasn't even aware that he had missed it.

"God," Louis pants into his mouth and Harry let's out a curse when the taller man grinds against him again "Let's go to my place, it's closer"

"Yeah, alright" Harry breathes, and nods, because, yes, yes, he wants it, and he wants it now.

. . .

The walk to Louis' apartment is unnecessarily long and Louis fiddles with the key, and Harry slurs something, he doesn't even know what, and Louis says "Shut up, I got this". And he does, Louis got this and got him pressed into the mattress of his bed in the matter of seconds. Harry can't even remember how he got here, but it doesn't even matter, not with Louis' mouth hot at his throat. He doesn't know what he is supposed to do with his heart anymore, and he feels it's beat hard against his chest, alive and excited, trembling in his rip cage, when Louis pushes into him. And when the man starts moving, he thinks too much, too soon, but all his fears are gone for tonight, even if it's delusional.

"Harry, look at me" Louis mumbles, and he opens his eyes, and he sees the storm, the sky, the darkness flashing lights in Louis' gray eyes, and he can't help it when his own eyes start to water. Everything's just too overwhelming and he doesn't know what to do. Because what if this is all he ever gets from Louis? What if he will always come second? Doesn't Louis care that he loves him? Is that so unimportant?

He's got nothing without the older man, and all his dreams mean nothing without Louis in his life. He pulls Louis down, and kisses him hard, moans into it when Louis slams into him merciless and rough. Because that's just how Louis is with him. And maybe he is screwed up for always to be ready to do everything Louis needs from him, what he wants from him. Maybe that's just because he is too in love that it's not healthy anymore. Because he wants so much more from the older man, than what Louis is willing to give him. But at the moment, he is just wanting to get fucked hard, because that's what he yearns for right now, and he tries to live it, to feel it and to cling to it.

He doesn't even really know what's good for him and he doesn't care if Louis is the worst thing that could have happened to him, he can pretend like he isn't hurt and he can walk through this chaos with Louis like he is having fun.

"Fuck, you feel so good" Louis breaths, close to his ear, and he shivers at the tone of his voice, so turned on. He closes his eyes, and yelps in surprise when Louis turns him around, pushing his face into the pillow when he slams into him again. He can't see him now, can only feel, calloused fingers gripping his waist hard, pushing his hips up, pushing him up to his knees, leaving bruises for him to admire in the morning, Louis's cock inside of him, pressing against his spot, and fuck, he can't help but let out a muffled cry every time Louis' shoves his cock into him.

He tries to push himself up on his hands, but Louis pushes him right down again, leaning over him, biting into his neck. He feels overpowered and hot, and he doesn't think he would ever let someone else fuck him like this.

"We're gonna do this all night" Louis mumbles against his back, and Harry can't help but let out a breathless gasp, when the taller man's lips touch his sensitive skin, kissing the burning marks Louis already left on him, "I want to have you again, and again, until you can't take it anymore"

He can't answer because his breath is getting knocked out of him, and his heart is expanding and then Louis says, "This is what you want, isn't it?" a dirty slur, right into his ear, and he only moans a desperate "Please" as a reply, and for Louis that is answer enough. Because, yes, shit, the older man knows exactly that he is willing to accept anything he throws at him, whatever it may be.  
He will always take whatever Louis is willing to give, would die for his love, but the other just leaves him drowning, keeps him reaching out for his hand, always grasping desperately, always hoping.

. . .

The next morning he feels absolutely and completely drained. His body arches, his head is pounding, everything hurts. Last night was insane.

"God" he groans tiredly, cuddling into Louis's embrace again, enjoying the warmth and the closeness Louis's body provides him with. Louis snores lightly, and Harry is just about to close his eyes again, to give in to the soft and alluring space he finds himself in right now, weren't it for the sound of the front door getting slammed.

He blinks a bit surprised, his tired mind trying to catch up, and when he finally get's it, he nearly jumps out off the bed. There is only one person who has a key to this apartment besides Louis.   
And that is Eleanor.

"Fuck" he curses, and Louis stirs at his side "Fuck, fuck, Louis, wake up, shit"

Louis makes a dissatisfied noise, but his eyes blink up at him anyway, and maybe it's the panic in Harry's face, or maybe he heard the foot steps outside the door, and knows Eleanor well enough to know that they belong to her, but Louis seems to understand immediately because he spits out a "Fuck".

And before they can even do anything, before they can even think about how they can get out of this shitty situation, the door to the bedroom goes open, and Eleanor comes in with a tentative "Louis?"

The world seems to move in slow-motion then, the moments passing him by. Everything slows down and he can't even breath for a second. Because this is the moment he has been dreading all along, the moment Eleanor finds out what they have been doing behind her back. What is she even doing here? Didn't Louis say that she would be away till Sunday?

But here she is know, standing in the doorway, eyes wide, shocked. And then she only shakes her head, desperate and disbelieving, and mutters "No, no, no, you didn't do that, you didn't-" before she breaks down into a sob, turns around and slams the door.

This was too much for her.

Louis is up immediately, jumping into his jeans as quickly as he can, calling after her, stammering excuses, and the door to the bedroom slams shut again when Louis rushes after Eleanor and Harry is left alone with his thoughts. He hears muffled screaming through the door, and for a moment he doesn't know what to do, his mind reeling, before he decides to put on his clothes, and stand by Louis' side.

This is his fault as well.

And maybe he would be lying, if he says that he never wanted Eleanor to find out, but he never wanted her to find out like this.

"I thought I could fucking trust you!" he hears Eleanor screaming, desperate and high and Louis takes a step back, but soothingly lifts his hands, "I'm sorry, you have to-" he starts.

"I have to what?!" she bites back "Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare tell me I have to understand, or have to forgive you! I don't have to do shit for you!". Louis looks kind of lost, so he moves beside him, to show him he is there for him.

Eleanor looks at him then, and then attacks him with her words, as if she forgot that he is still here until now.

"And you!" she shouts, desperately, walking a step towards him, her face angry, red, tears streaming down her cheeks "How fucking dare you?!"

"I'm sorry, I-" he starts, and he feels desperate, because Louis isn't looking at him, and he wants him to tell her, that it's over between them now, that he fell for him, after all. It's Louis' chance to choose a side now.

But Louis doesn't even look at him, focused on Eleanor who has a go at him, calling him names, a dirty fag, and Harry doesn't even know what's going on anymore, and then, before he can even comprehend it, he feels a hot sting on his left cheek, the pain moves across his face immediately, tears springing to his eyes.

Eleanor slapped him. Maybe he deserved this.

"I thought we were friends" the woman cries, the pain in her voice evident, and he sees her raise her hand again, and he prepares for another slap but it never comes.

Louis is holding her wrist. Holding her back, until she looks at him, "Listen to me-" he starts, but Eleanor snaps her wrist out of Louis's grip, turning to him, "Listen to you?!"  
She glares at him, "How can I even believe a word that you are saying?!"

"Because this" Louis makes a back and forth movement between himself and Harry "Means nothing to me"

What?

He can feel his heart stop, for a moment it's hard to breath, an adrenalin rush coursing through his veins. Louis looks alarmed. Scared. Reserved. Distant. Having made up his mind. And Harry can't believe it.  
What did Louis just say? He means nothing to him? What they have...means nothing?

How can he say that?

"Louis-" he starts, and stops, his voice shaking.

"I don't believe you! Fuck, Louis, do you even-" Eleanor's voice takes him out of his thoughts, but he can't take his eyes off of Louis.

"I mean it!" Louis says and it sounds like a plea from a desperate man being dragged towards the guillotine. The guilt is written on his face, but he is not looking at him, ignoring him, disregarding him, "I was confused! But I need you! I love you!"

"Louis-" he croaks, before Eleanor can say anything, and he feels the wetness on his cheeks, and he wipes at them desperately, "Please don't-"

"What are you still doing here?!" Louis snaps at him then, and he flinches when Louis's cold eyes meet his.

"I-" he starts, words stuck in his throat.

"Get the fuck outta here" Louis's voice is hard, and determined, and Harry is left with no other choice. Because what's the point? He already lost. He just wanted everything to be perfect, everything to be worth the fight, but he never thought it would come to this, he never-

He never wanted things to turn out this way.

He looks at Eleanor who looks to the ground, tears streaming down her face, and this is not what he thought would happen.

But he leaves them in their ruins, walks away from their war, and maybe that's a good thing, because then he won't have to hear the lies Louis will spit out. Maybe what Zayn said was right, maybe he gave more, but that's because he knew it would take more time for Louis to come around. He gave more to show him that it was okay to feel what they felt. Louis needed time. He was confused. He was scared. So he gave and he gave, and the older man fell into him more and more, so it only made sense to assume that... he'd fall completely for him, that he would love him in the end. Just like he does.

It was a fair assumption.

And then Louis takes it all back.

How dare he fucking do that to him?

How can Louis be such a coward, such a liar, such a big fucking mistake?! 

How could he lose his heart to a man like that?


	10. CRUEL WORLD

"Hey Gemma" he says softly, as he places the little bundle of flowers in front of his sister's grave "It's been a while" He takes a lung full of fresh autumn air, the wind tousles his hair a bit, and he hides his face in the scarf Louis gave him once. It still smells like the other man. He lets out a small sigh, before looking at the bright, blue sky, the trees, golden and red. He smiles, big and bright, because he can not contain it.

"I've fallen in love"

. . . 

He walks home from Louis’ apartment, the snow glistening in the morning sun, snow hanging heavy on the trees. When he was a young boy, Gemma and him always tried to jump high enough so they could touch the branches and shake them, making the snow fall down on them. It was a fun game, with no winner. But he is not a boy anymore, his sister is dead, and he doesn't feel like jumping right now.

He has nothing in common with that little boy anymore, nothing but some scrapes of a shared past. The tears on his cheeks are dry and cold, and his whole chest hurts with every breath he forces himself to take.

Louis just said he means nothing to him.

He never saw that coming. How could he have known it would turn out that way? He knows that this was not the Louis he fell in love with. His Louis was kind and gentle, funny, someone Harry could talk to and feel understood. Where did this man go? Or was he never there to begin with?

He shakes his head at himself, entering the apartment complex. He doesn't know if he wants to go home yet, so he stops in front of Zayn's door. Just staring for a while, deep in thought.  
Does he want to talk to someone about it?

He hesitates for a moment, before walking past Zayn's door and to his own apartment. He can't explain how he feels right now, his heart hurts, his brain and his mind, his body, everything feels used, and broken, but at the same time there is some kind of numbness inside the core of his being, that he can't describe. As if he is just an outsider of his own body and mind and what he is feeling now, is not really him, but someone else.

When he closes the door to his apartment, he leans against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. Bobby is sleeping on the couch, curled into himself, and for a moment he wishes he was still sleeping as well. He decides the first thing he has to do is take a shower. He wants to wash every trace, every smell that lingers on him, that reminds him of Louis, down the drain.

So he pulls his clothes off on his way to the bathroom, letting them fall to the floor, not caring if he makes a mess. He wants to fight this feeling inside him, the feeling that's eating him alive, he wants to hold on to the numbness that has settled over him, but when he catches the sight of himself in the mirror, even breathing becomes impossible to do for a moment. He presses down on one of the bruises on his hips, slides his finger over the bite marks on his neck, and he feels like he can't breath for a moment, when he realizes that he might be able to wash Louis’ smell off of him, but that this, these marks, the proof of what they did, what he allowed Louis to do to him, will not go away easily. His body looks every inch as used and damaged as he feels.

He tears his eyes away from the mirror, ignoring the lump in his throat, before moving into the shower, turning it on, and not minding that it's cold at first. He doesn't care.

The water washes away the salt on his cheeks, but it doesn't do anything to make him feel better. He doesn't think there is anything that can make him feel better. All this time he was just chasing Louis, chasing happiness, and now here he is, his heart teared to pieces. Did he deserve this? Because he tried to have Louis all for himself? Is this what he gets for his selfishness? He feels like Louis broke his heart a little bit with each uncaring action of his, and all the time he picked them up, and carefully glued them together again. He never thought the day would come when he gets too tired to fix his own heart.

He gets out of the shower, and the cold air hits him immediately, he shivers a bit, and makes his way to his bedroom, to put on comfy clothes as soon as possible, before throwing himself into his bed.  
He just wants to sleep for a thousand years and pretend none of this has ever happened. But as always in times like this, his mind doesn't leave him alone, reeling, and fighting a war all by itself. He buries himself underneath the blankets, curling up into himself.

Doesn't Louis care about how he feels? Is he that unimportant to the other man? He can't believe that, he won't. He knows Louis cares, Louis said so himself, and what Louis said to Eleanor can't be true, they were just said out of desperation and panic. Louis is a cruel man, he thinks, and before he can stop it, he feels his eyes water. How can somebody be like that? Why is he in love with a man like that? All Louis did was show him what it feels like to be lost, because fuck, he never felt so alone and so utterly lonely. All Louis did was hurt him, just to be nice to him again he kept him high, kept him keen, manipulating him, and then he pushed him right down. As if he was nothing.

"This means nothing to me"

He can't hide a sob, and he feels his tears sliding down freely now, and he hides his fGemma in his pillow, as his body shakes with his sobs and cries. He never wanted this, never wanted to feel like this, and the worst thing is, he still loves Louis. He loves him enough to forgive him. If Louis comes and says sorry, if he explains himself to him, he would forgive and he would be there. He would always be there for Louis.

He kept all this feelings building up inside of him, and now he lets them out, crying his pain all over his pillow, tsunami tides in his eyes, as he completely breaks down, alone, in his bedroom, feeling like his heart is going to kill him. And all the times Louis said that he is important, that he wants him, made him feel like he is his whole world, just made him fall harder and harder. But in the end he couldn't come through, he never did, but he would still wait for him, he is still hoping. And he is sure Louis has to know, that he loves him, Louis has to know, but he still did this to him, pushed him aside, when all he wanted was stay at his side forever. And he hurt him so often, and he still stayed, chased, loved the other man, and he can't believe how stupid he was, thinking that Louis loves him just as much.

Louis taught him that loving him was never enough.

He doesn't know how long he has slept, but when he wakes up the sun is going down, and his head still hurts, dried salt on his cheek, and his heart still feels like it's not completely whole anymore.  
It takes a moment to realize what woke him up, but when he does excitement runs through his veins in the form of adrenalin.  
His door bell keeps ringing. This has to be Louis. Who else would visit him? Zayn thinks he is still with Louis, enjoying their weekend, and he doesn't have anybody else. He gets up immediately, nearly crashes to the floor, as he tries to get up as fast as possible. If this is Louis saying sorry, coming back to him, if he says he broke up with Eleanor, if he tells him that he made a mistake, that it was only a result of his panicked state, if this is what Louis says, then maybe he can be happy, then maybe Louis is his happiness after all.

So he runs to the door, not caring when he nearly trips over his own feet, so excited, so hopeful.  
But when he finally gets to the door, and opens it, his smile drops immediately.

It's Louis, like he thought it would be, hands stuffed tight in his coat and he looks like he's been crying. His eyes are red and puffy, and his cheeks still look wet. Louis doesn't cry. Harry's never seen him cry fully, anyway, but he clearly has, big, fat, breath rattling tears. It's a sight he hadn't expected to see.

Louis appears tense when he says, "We need to talk"

The dozens of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach get massacred in one short second.  
"Alright" he answers, voice shaky, he is afraid of what will come. He opens the door a little bit wider, a sign for Louis to come in, and after a moment of hesitation, the man follows him into his living room.

"Let's talk" he says, when he is finally able to swallow the lump in his throat. They are standing in the middle of his living room, neither of them wanting to sit down "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to end this" Louis says, and he looks hurt, like the words are hard to get out "I'm sorry if I led you on, but we can't do this-"

"What?" he interrupts, his mind trying to catch up. "Whatever we had," Louis says, "It's over, Harry". It's funny, what happens right then. Like the world just ceases to exist for a few seconds. Like there's nothing. Nothing but soaring black.

"She got really mad" Louis mumbles then, and lets out a deep sigh "I get it, I mean, I would be mad, but-" Louis seems like he is struggling to find the right words "God, she is so hurt and everything's a mess. And I have to set things right, so I'm here to tell you, that this thing between us is over"

He has to take a deep breath, has to try to keep himself together, trying not to panic, trying not to cry, trying not to scream and drown and burn. "You're scared. That's what it is, you're scared," he rushes out, nodding too much. That has to be it. "Because things are changing now and you-"

"She said she will give me another chance" Louis says, and he swallows hard "I'm sorry"

"No!" he shouts, when he finally finds his words again, anger and desperation bubbling inside of him, and he takes a step closer to the older man, intimidating "No! That's not good enough!". Louis takes a cautious step back, to the door, and no, fuck, no, he will not let Louis leave.

"You can't do this to me!" he says, and he puts his hands in his hair, disbelieving, Louis can't do this to him.

To them.

"Calm down, please, I-" Louis starts.

"You don't get to break my heart and expect me to take it fucking gracefully!" he yells, interrupting Louis, feeling the bloody pieces of his heart exploding inside his chest until nothing remains except a painful emptiness where something used to be.

This can't be it. This can't be it.

"I already lost Gemma," he says, now, and he feels hot tears, sliding down his cheeks again, he doesn't care, he doesn't fucking care if he is being pathetic now in front of Louis. He is already at the bottom, there is no way he can be dragged even further down, "I can't bear losing you too!"

Louis looks angry then, expression changing from guilt to something else, and Harry is not winning this, he is not winning, he...  
He was never winning. He never stood a chance. Louis never gave him one to begin with.

"So, am I what? Expected to change everything because you lost a person that is important to you?!"

He shakes his head, desperately, not even listening, "Why Eleanor? Why not me?!"

"She's my girlfriend, Harry!"

"And what am I? What exactly am I?!" he yells, demanding to know, but Louis doesn't have the answer. Of course he doesn't. Louis doesn't think about them. But he does. He always does.

"I love her and I'm not ready to throw it away for you" Louis says, and it's...it's not lacking conviction, it's not, "I'm sorry I led you on, I'm sorry things have gone this far, but I...I wasn't sure, I was confused, this is a wakeup call, and-"

"Why are you doing this to us?!" he asks desperately. Every word and action seems to have the opposite effect, pushing Louis away from him rather than pulling him in.

"Because I made a mistake and I'm trying to fix it!" Louis yells then, fed up, having his mind made up, and then he starts to leave, walking through the door, and out of his apartment, and Harry stands there, frozen. He can barely breath when he looks at Louis, and he calls him a mistake?

No, no, no, no, no. This can't be how it ends, he didn't gave it his all, just to have nothing in the end. It's not fair.

How dare he?

He goes after him, his feet are heavy, he prays they won't fail him now, and his heart is a burden, and he carries it with him, has been carrying it for far too long, and he feels like he is getting loose at the seams, falling apart.

"Wait!" he calls after Louis, who's walking to his car, the wind hurts, it's cold, the little stones on the way dig into his bare feet, but fuck, he doesn't even feel that "Don't leave me now!"

Louis turns around to fGemma him again, and he looks confused, pained, and good, fuck, at least this isn't easy for him. At least it's fucking hard. It should be.

"Please!" he starts, and he digs his fingers into his own hair, frantically "I-, I need to know! Is it true what you said?" Louis looks confused "That I mean nothing to you, did you really mean that? Louis, I need to-"

"I'm sorry" Louis says, and he looks lost, in front of his car, cold wind tousling his black air, "I shouldn't have said that, you know I care about you, but I needed Eleanor to understand that-"

"Then why?!" he cries, "I don't understand you, I did everything for you, I gave you time and-"

"Just let it be, you won't understand, you are just a teenager with a crush" Louis says, and that's cruel, and, fuck, so wrong. Because what he feels, isn't a crush, it's not puppy love, it's not something silly, and funny, something Louis can make jokes about. He is not a toy Louis can play with until he is bored and then throw it away.

And then Louis proceeds to get into his car, as if that's it. But Harry won't let him, his vision is swimming and he nearly can't see through his tears, but he stops the door from closing, hands gripping the metal.

"I can't just let this be it!" he grits out, "Please, Louis, we can make it work, I beg you, don't do this to me"

And then Louis closes the door, right into his face, and a piece of him dies.

"Louis!" he screams, desperately banging his fists against the window of the car, and he tries to open the door again, but he can't, the door is closed, and the engine starts.  
"I love you!"

Louis looks at him then, one last time, and there is something in his eyes, sadness, regret, and Harry knows this isn't easy for Louis, and fuck, he feels his heart stop, as if it's too hurt to continue beating for him and it's hurts to breath, and then the older man speeds off, leaving him in the cold. Barefoot and heartbroken.

And he cries, and screams, pained and hurt as he falls to his knees, because his legs can't support his weight anymore, and his heart shatters with him, tiny pieces, all over the ground.  
And for the first time, he thinks that he might not be able to pick them up again.

Of course, even in your most miserable moments, when you are at your lowest, the world doesn't stop for you, Harry knows that now. The world doesn't stop for anybody, it's cruel and mean. And it hurts.

He tried, he fought, and he cried. But everything crashed down anyway.

Because in the end, everything he did was for Louis, and everything he wanted was to be with him. But those dreams got dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky, that he wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.  
He still asks himself what he did wrong, what he could have done to be worth it for Louis.  
He knows thinking that way is unhealthy. Zayn said that it's Louis’ loss, if he didn't want him, that it's his loss, but in reality he is the one that lost it all. "I can't make anyone happy" he once said to Zayn, and he thought about Eleanor in that moment. So he choose himself first, he put his own happiness first.

And what good that did him.

He will never try to chase happiness again, he will never try to chase someone again. He lost himself on the way, lost his moral compass pointing due north, his personality and now there is just an inner indecisiveness that is as wide and as wavering as the ocean. He looks at the slightly snow covered ground at the cemetery, and can't help but let out a deep sigh, puffs of white in front of his face, this is the coldest winter he has ever known.

. . .

"Hey Gemma" he says softly, as he places the little bundle of flowers in front of his sister's grave "It's been a while"

He takes a lung full of cold winter air, the wind tousles his hair a bit, and he hides his face in the scarf Louis gave him once. It doesn't smell like the other man anymore. He lets out a small sigh, before looking at the gray sky, the trees, blank and naked. He feels a drop of water sliding down in his face, and for a moment, he thinks it's rain, but then he realizes that he started crying. He rubs his hands over his cheek quickly, letting the tears soak into the fabric of his jacket.

"I've tried to be happy...because you-" he swallows hard "You would want me to be, but-" he clenches his right hand into the hem of his jacket, trying to hold onto something.  
He tries hard to choke back his tears, because Louis doesn't deserve them, and he has cried so much over the other man, he feels like there shouldn't be more tears left for him to cry. The man took everything, selfish, greedy, cold like the winter's air, and he gave it to him willingly, because he thought it would be worth it in the end. He laughs a bit breathlessly, desperately. He gave Louis his all, and now he has nothing left anymore.

"This isn't happiness"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part 1.
> 
> i'm sorry


	11. FLIPSIDE

Somehow they survive the winter. Eleanor makes him sleep on the couch though. Probably punishment. But it doesn't matter, at least she is still there.

The rain outside is torrential, accompanied by a loud, tree abusing wind coming from all sides. The raindrops hit hard against the window, and the growl of thunder and the flash lightning, won't let him sleep. He blinks at the alarm clock, that he put on the table. 4:12.

He groans a bit tiredly, frustrated. He feels like he hasn't slept for a week.

He decides to get a cup of tea, maybe it will calm him down, maybe it will put his mind to rest. He knows it's hopeless though. It's been weeks since he ended it with Harry, but he still feels like he left something unfinished. It doesn't leave him alone.

The last bit of snow is melting, and the flowers in the park are blossoming, pink, yellow, red. It's turning spring. He walks home from his morning shift, fresh air tousling his hair, and he finally feels able to breath again. Maybe he just needed a change of scenery, maybe the coldness of winter reminded him of the chaos he left behind when he closed the door to his and Harry's relationship.

Opening it in the first place was a foolish thing to do.

He takes the long way home, walking through the city, content. Things with Eleanor are somehow looking up, and he couldn't be in a better mood, even if he knows that Eleanor hasn't forgiven him yet. He understands though. Things like that take time.

He stops in front of a jewel store, looking through the glass at the engagement rings, diamonds glistening. He thinks about it for a while, looking at each ring closely. Is that what he wants? Does he want to marry Eleanor?

Not too long ago he wouldn't hesitated for a second to ask Eleanor to marry him, but now... He sighs, stuffing his hands tightly into the pockets of his jacket, turning away from the window, continuing his walk home. He buys flowers instead.

"Sunflowers?" she asks, peering at him over the rim of her coffee cup, yellow and blue paint streaks on her cheek.

"Thought you could keep them here" he says, putting them on the little table, next to Eleanor's paint brushes and oil colors "Maybe they will inspire you" he muses, turning them towards the window, so they can catch the light.

"They are pretty" she says softly and smiles at him.

He smiles back, because this might be the first real smile Eleanor gave him, since winter ended. It was a bad and a cold time, but he thinks, when you love someone, you will find them again.

"They are your favorites" he shrugs, "Robin wasn't there when I bought them but-"

Eleanor furrows her brows "They are not my favorites"  
"No? I thought they were" he asks, a little bit confused. Eleanor just shakes her head and he realizes later that they were Harry's. 

. . .

They are eating dinner together and it's awkward. This is supposed to be romantic. But it isn't.

He nips on his red wine, swirls it around in it's glass, and when the waiter passes them, he asks if they could have a full bottle.  
Eleanor raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

He coughs a bit, it's awfully quiet around them, and the chattering of the other couples doesn't even really reach them, making them sit in near silence, before Eleanor finally breaks it. "I never thought the day would come that I don't know what to say to you" she says, her voice is not angry. She just sounds sad. She sounds sad, and disappointed, looking down at her soup, absentmindedly swirling her spoon around.

He sighs, "I'm trying to make things right again" She looks up at him, and he can't read her at all. 

"I know" she says, "Me too"

He thinks their relationship is like an old and warm blanket. A blanket that you have for a long time, where the seams are slowly ripping open, small holes have been patched up several times, the fabric isn't as soft and the color isn't as vibrant as it used to be. Dreams and memories have been weaved into this blanket, it soaked up tears, and it has gone through a war. But it is still warm, it is something you know, something that reminds you of home. Something that you are used to. It's everything you have known for the last few years, and you can't throw it away so easily.

. . .

The thing is, he doesn't have anyone to talk about it. The only one who knows about what happened is Ashton, but he just knows bit and pieces that Louis was willing to share. For Ashton, Harry is just the guy he wanted to fuck.

And it would have been so easy, if he just had been that. If he was just curious, if he didn't actually had feelings for the younger man.

"So, you are not gonna see him again?" Ashton asks, taking a sip from his beer.

"No, I don't think that is a good idea" he just says, absentmindedly scrapping the label of his own bottle. There is a lump in his throat. The thought of never seeing Harry again, hurts. But the thought of leaving Eleanor, changing, putting an end to things, terrifies him.

"Mh" Ashton hums "Poor kid, eh? Falling in love with you, when he knew you had a girlfriend. At least you got to fuck him before you had to break it off"

"Yeah" he mumbles, not really agreeing.

Having sex with Harry didn't help anything. It just made things even more complicated. Once he had taken that step, he felt like there was no turning back. And god, he thought that doing it once would stifle the little flame inside of him, that was constantly burning, yearning for Harry. But it didn't, it just turned into a fire.

A fire he couldn't fight.

And fuck, that made him angry. Angry at himself, angry at Harry for making him feel that way. And he took it out on him, every time they had sex. It was always hard, rough and unforgiving.  
He took what he wanted, always forceful and demanding and Harry didn't complain about it. Not even once. But even through that harsh and bruising sex, he could feel how there was something between them. Something hot and bright. Connecting them, binding them together.

Heat. Fire.

A burning inferno, destroying everything on it's path. Burning both of them down.

"Well, be glad you got rid of that clingy guy" Ashton says, and Louis gets pulled out of his thoughts. He looks at his friend, who just grins at him slightly, "Right?"

"Yeah" he sighs, although he doesn't think Harry has been clingy, maybe just too infatuated with the idea of being in love with him.

"Teenager with a crush" he mumbles, more to himself than to Ashton, but his friend catches his words anyways and lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh man, you really broke his heart, didn't you?" and Ashton snickers, like it's fucking funny. He glares a bit at him, but doesn't say anything. He doesn't get the joke.

Maybe he finds himself at a gay club that night, alone, and maybe a bit unsure, sad and drunk. Heartbroken. And maybe he finds a guy, brown messy hair, big green eyes, young. Maybe he reminds him of Harry. And if he let's the guy suck him off in one of the dirty restrooms, hand in his hair, cock down the teens throat, then that doesn't mean anything.

. . .

Spring has turned to summer and things still aren't completely right. He lost the hope that they'll ever be. Eleanor and him are ignoring their problems, and honestly, he doesn't know how long they have been doing it to get so good at it.

"We need to talk about this" he says.

The sun is shining outside, the weather is nice, and it looks like a day best spent in the park. Only, he and Eleanor don't spend time together anymore. And the park is more than taboo.

"Yeah" she agrees, and she lets herself fall down the couch, right next to him, "I can't keep doing this"

"Do what?" he asks, taking her hand in his, soft skin, long fingers, the hands he has known for such a long time now, the hands he has been holding for the last years, always tight, always warm.

"Pretend I'm not angry at you" she grins a bit "But, god, I'm still so mad"

"It's been months, Eleanor how can you-" he starts, because he thought he had been forgiven. She smiles at him again, and maybe they don't really talk, but he sleeps in their bed, her body in his arms, and they-

They just got too good at pretending.

"You cheated on me" she interrupts him sharply, "With a man. That's not an easy thing to forgive"

"But I'm still here, aren't I?" he asks, because that has to mean something, right? That he is still here, sitting next to her, holding her hand.

"I don't know" she says, "Are you?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow "I'm sitting next to you, right here. I've been trying to get things to be alright again for the last months and I-"

"And do you want to be here?" she asks, and she sits up, her hand falling down on his knee. He looks at her, and then he looks around the apartment. This empty apartment, with the white walls and Eleanors abstract paintings, the apartment with the white light, unhealthy and unhappy.

"Not like this" he admits, and Eleanor nods.

"We need to change" he says, and he grips her hand tighter in his. They can get through this. He is not ready to let her go yet.

After that they do change a few things, they try to go out together more, to include the other into their life. To share again. It's hard, but after a while, he feels more and more at ease.

. . .

Eleanor's silhouette is visible through the shower curtain, her hands in her hair. The razor's blade swipes across his cheek, his eyes are focused on her rather than on the shaving. She starts humming, her hips swaying to whatever she's singing, and he begins to smile. He flinches from a sudden sting.

"Fuck," he whispers, quickly checking the damage. His thumb is glistening red.

Eleanor draws the curtain aside, stepping out of the shower. "You okay?" she asks, wrapping a towel around herself.

"Yeah, it's not bad."

She walks over and takes a gentle hold of his chin, but it's a minor cut that will stop bleeding shortly. He looks at her soft features as her brows knit together with worry.

"Your fault," he grins. 

"How so?"

"Distracting me." He gives her a suggestive look as his eyes dip down on her towel-covered body, and she laughs, giving his shoulder a push. Her eyes sparkle, her joy contagious, and his stomach reels and his heart expands: she's one of the most beautiful girls he's ever had the undeserved pleasure of stealing away from the nice guys. "I like it when you're happy" he says, and it's the truth. And maybe he can make this work. Maybe he really still wants her, maybe she is what he needed after all. Maybe they can get through this.

. . . 

A few days later, he sees Harry at the mall. His breath gets stuck in his throat and his heart hammers inside his chest.

He hides himself behind a wall before the brown haired teen sees him, he doesn't want to meet the boy who brought so much chaos into his life, the boy he had messed up and left alone to deal with it.  
He looks at him from afar, Harry hasn't changed. His hair is still messy, deep brown, he's grinning, talking to a blond man, and Louis wonders who that is.  
It's not his new boyfriend is it? Are they on a date?

He feels something in his chest clench, feels a lump in his throat, and he hates himself for it. He's got no reason to feel jealous over this. He has no right to feel that way. He was the one who kicked Harry out of his life. And maybe he never really loved Harry, but he doesn't want him to be loved by anyone else either. He still doesn't really know what he wants.

And when Harry laughs, open and happy, at the blond haired taller man, it just reminds him why he cheated on Eleanor with him. Harry could draw him in, like no other person had ever done before and even now, he can't keep his eyes off of him

. . .

It all comes crashing down in autumn.

He is just coming home from work, exhausted and tired and when he opens the door he sees Eleanor, dressed in a long black dress, hair pinned up, expensive jewelry, a black clutch. She looks absolutely stunning.

"Uhm" he says, when she sends him an ice cold glare "Where are you going?" he asks, while walking to the kitchen, Eleanor following him, red heels making a loud clattering sound against the wooden floor.

"You tell me" she snaps "I've been trying to reach you!"

"I worked extra hours" he shrugs. It's not a lie, but she snorts anyway. Like she doesn't really believe him.

"What?" he asks sharply, annoyed by her attitude, before opening the fridge, trying to find some of the left-overs from yesterday, or at least something eatable.

"God!" she says, exasperated "I can't believe you forgot!" he lifts his head out of the fridge to look at her, one eyebrow raised in confusion and she only continues to glare at him, her diamond necklace reflecting the white light of the kitchen. "I've been dropping hints all week!" she grits out "I've been waiting here for you to come around and take me out!"

He looks confused "It's not your birthday" he states, because he knows it isn't.

"It's our anniversary!" she cries, and then spins around, a hand lifting to her face in a attempt to compose herself. He just stares. It is? It is.

"You forgot" she laughs bitterly "Of course!"

"I have been working!" he tries to defend himself, "We are understaffed and-"

"Don't fucking lie to me!" she says then, "I swear, Louis, if you have been fooling around with that gay boy again, I'll-"

"What?!" he snaps back, glaring at her "What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, god! I'm talking about Harry! Are you still seeing him? Are you still fucking him?!" She's angry, and even now, in pure distress, she is beautiful.

He sighs, trying to get the situation under control, trying not to let this break out into a full-fight where they scream and crash and burn.

"Look, it's only...a bit after midnight?" he hazards a guess "Come on, I'll take you out"

"It's too late for that!"

"Then what the hell do you want?!" he snaps at her, not meaning to, regretting it when she looks like he just slapped her. He wants to tell her, that he is tired, he worked for nearly 12 hours, so that she can wear a necklace like that, so that she can walk around in a dress like that."I'm sorry" he adds quickly, but he has clearly stirred up a storm, as her eyes flash angrily.

"Where is this relationship going, Louis?" she asks, hands clenching by her side, and god, this isn't the conversation he wants to have now. He just wants to go to bed. "I feel like I give you so much. I've forgiven you, I've given you a second chance, but there are two people in this relationship! You and me! I...I give so much! So much Louis! And what are you doing?"

"Getting lectured at?" he suggests and fuck, why can't he keep his mouth shut? She just glares at him, huffing, before storming out of the room "Baby, c'mon, I didn't mean that" he shouts, following after her.

"You did! We both know you did!"

She doesn't stop at the front door to give him the chance to ask her to stay. She storms out of the apartment, not stopping to let him change her mind, and instead he ends up following her down the stairs as her high heels click against the steps. "Don't be so dramatic!" he yells, and it echoes in the staircase, as they reach the landing of the third floor, but she ignores him "Eleanor, are you seriously making me follow you out into the streets?! Fuck, it's not like one day measures up our whole relationship!"

Eleanor comes to an abrupt stop, and swirls around, glaring holes into him, green eyes flashing dangerously "It does! Right now it really fucking does! You just take me for granted! God, they were right, they were-"

"Who's they?" he asks, descending a few steps "Oh let me guess, your pretentious art friends, right? You all gather around and talk about me? It's that what you do?" She doesn't reply, which is just as much reply as he needs "God, I don't need some artsy and try hard hipsters talking about me and-"

"Well then maybe you should have just stayed with Harry!" she grits out then, and he glares at her.

"Would you get over Harry already?! It's like you want me to sleep with him! I mean, if that's it, let me know! I'm sure he would be up for it!" She clenches her jaw, clenches her hands in the soft fabric of her dress, her eyes brimming with tears, and he feels guilt rushing over him.

"How can you say that to me?" she asks.

His heart clenches a bit, because this. This is his fault. Harry's and Eleanor's pain is all his fault. He was the one who did this. But he is angry, too. He has been angry for the last few weeks, months, years, and the guilt he feels is being washed over by the realization that Eleanor probably never realized what he did for her. He started working at the hospital because he knew he would get more money that way, he choose her dream over his own, he supported her through all this years, financially, emotionally, so that she can follow her path to become an artist. So that she can do that.

And what did he do? He worked, and worked and worked, and paid for an apartment he hates. He paid for white walls because Eleanor liked it. And he put himself second, he always did. It wasn't Eleanor who gave too much. It was him.

And now here he is, with nothing he loves, nothing he can call his own.

Allowing himself to be with Harry was the first step he took into doing what he wants for once. And maybe he hurt both of them, even if he never wanted that to happen, but he doesn't regret. He doesn't regret Harry.

"How can you say that to me?" she repeats, and now there are tears flowing down her cheeks. And even when she cries, she is pretty like a picture.

"I don't love you as much as I used to" he says. And he knows she must feel the same.

"I..." her voice fades out, and she looks horrified. And she takes a moment, before she composes herself "I can't believe I wasted my time giving you a second chance"

"Yeah" he agrees, wasted time, wasted time. "Maybe you shouldn't have." He shakes his head "You and I both know that it was only a matter of time until we..." he swallows hard.

"Until we can't pretend anymore...yes" Eleanor ends his sentence."I'm breaking up with you" she says then, and...it stings, in his chest, right in his heart. It hurts. And maybe he deserved that. For what he did. Not just to her. He doesn't love her, but god, he wishes he still would.

"Alright" he says. He can't keep doing this.

And then he looks at Eleanor, the girl he met in high school, the girl he took to prom, the girl he wanted to marry, and maybe he feels something wet on his cheek, when this girl he used to love, let's out a heart wrecking sob, hazel eyes swimming in tears.

So he does what he always does when she cries. He embraces her in his arms, silently, and let's her shake and sob against his chest, as he tries to remember who he will be without Eleanor by his side.  
And when she walks away from him, she walks out with a sense of finality, carrying her broken heart with a lot more grace than he does. He let's Eleanor stay in the apartment, he will pay for it for three months, then she has to find something new. Same thing goes for her atelier. He thinks that is fair.

He rents himself a new apartment, near the park where Harry lives, but that is just a coincidence. He liked it, and it looked like home, it was new and clean, and he painted one wall yellow, and made it his. He takes walks in the park, maybe hoping to meet Harry, just to catch up. He feels like he left something unfinished. He thought that feeling would go away after a few months, but it didn't.  
It only grew stronger the more time passed.

. . .

It's winter when he quits his job.

He opens up a little tattoo parlor downtown, he hires a chubby, nice guy named Bepo, and it doesn't bring him as much money as working at the hospital, but it makes him happy, and maybe that is what counts. 

One day he finds himself in front of Harry's apartment.

He doesn't know exactly what he wants from him, what he expects from Harry, he just wants to talk, wants to say sorry, wants to know that Harry is alright, that he is better now. That he picked himself up. He wants to see him again, and it's in the back of his mind everyday, when he works, when he sleeps, when he visits the bench they used to meet up.  
He looks out of the window, seeing the little snowflakes falling down, covering the ground in perfect white. Harry's not one of those larger than life people who'll turn you inside out and then spit you out, leaving you dumbfounded and heartbroken. He has none of that persona. So he isn't worried.  
Harry's just a boy, but he is not leaving his head.

He knows he owns him an apology, and that's why he is here. Nothing more, nothing less.

And after that, maybe he will finally be granted peace.


	12. RADIOACTIVE

He swallows the lump in his throat, lifting his hand to ring the doorbell. Inside, he panics a bit. What is he doing here? Why is he even here?  
What does he hope to achieve?

He left Harry, a little bit over a year ago, left him in tears and heartbroken, and now he is here again, standing in front of his apartment. The apartment he liked so much. It felt like home, felt like something he wanted. It was Harry's and his hideout, the place where they could be. The only place where he let them be.

And now he is standing here again. The hallway is the same, but things aren't, and he isn't. He will never be the same. God, he wishes Eleanor never made him delete Harry's phone number from his phone. Calling would be so much easier.

He hears footsteps from inside, and takes a deep breath, composing himself, and then before he can even think about what the hell he is going to say to Harry the door opens.

And it isn't him. His heart sinks.

It's a middle-aged, dark haired, woman, carrying a little child on her arm. "Uhm," he says, confused, startled, "Ah, is Harry there?"

The woman with the black eyes and black hair, shakes her head "I don't know no Harry"

What? 

What? Where is he?

"Oh, I must have made a mistake" He tries to get over his confusion and nods, "Sorry, for bothering then"  
The door gets shut in his face and he feels relieved and disappointed at the same time. He checks the room number, but it's the right one, hell, of course it is. He spend hours waiting for Harry in front of this door on Christmas, he knows this door, he knows the number. So what is going on? Did...did Harry move?

He feels something in his chest clench at the thought, feels his breath get stuck in his throat for a bit. He shakes his head. It can't be. I can't fucking be, Harry wouldn't just leave, without-  
Without what?

They haven't spoken in over a year, why would he tell him, of all people, if he is going to move away? His eyes slide to the door of Harry's neighbor. Zayn could probably give him some answers. What an act of desperation, he thinks, when he moves in front of the black haired man's door and quickly rings the doorbell, before he realizes how insane that idea is..

The door opens almost instantly, and he doesn't even get out a "Hey" before he feels the hard knuckles of Zayn's fist hit his jaw. He stumbles backwards a bit, pain spreading through the side of his face, and he can't help but let out a pained noise. Fuck.

"Sorry" the man in front of him says, and he doesn't sound sorry at all "That was one year worth of pent up anger that I just let go of"

"Damn it" he croaks out, and shit, talking hurts, his entire jaw feels like it's on fire and he holds it with his hand, despite knowing it'll do shit to ease the pain.

"Deserved it" Zayn shrugs and he ignores him for a moment, focused on opening and closing his mouth a few times, fingers pressing into the joints of his jaw, checking the damage. He can tell it's not broken, but it will probably swell a bit.

"Hope you feel better now" he grits out, when Zayn let's out a satisfied sigh, looking at the knuckles of his fist.

"You know, I actually kinda do" the green-haired man smiles, and Louis sends him a crooked grin back, because seriously? Yes, he knows he deserved that. And he knows Zayn could have broken his jaw, but he didn't. Zayn did hold back on him.

It still hurts like a motherfucker though.

"Alright" Zayn says then "What the hell do you want?"

"Harry is not here anymore" he says, letting go of his burning jaw to point at the door, where Harry used to live.

"Yup" Zayn nods "He moved out a few months ago"

"Where to?" he asks, and Zayn snorts out a laugh. He raises his eyebrows a bit, and stares at the green-haired man. "What's so funny?"

"You think I'm gonna tell you? You have some fucking nerve, showing up here and-"

"There is something I need to tell him" he grits out, because seriously, he gets where Zayn is coming from, but the man could at least be a little bit more cooperative.

"He doesn't want to hear the bullshit you have to say" Zayn's voice is hard, and he fixes him with a glare, "I will be fucking damned to tell you where he lives now"

He interrupts Zayn, anger welling up inside of him "I really want to talk to him, he has to hear what I have to say"

Zayn rolls his eyes "He moved on, he is happy now. I'm not letting you mess that up again"

"I don't fucking plan on messing with him" he starts, fist clenching at his side, "I just want to-"

"No" Zayn says, and it sounds final "If you care about him even just a little bit, you will leave him alone. He doesn't need you in his life again"

He glares at Zayn, and the green-haired man stares him down. He gets it, if he were Zayn, he would be just as protective...but.

He still wants to make things right. He wants to let Harry know that he is sorry, that he feels bad.

But maybe that's not as important. If Harry is happy...then...then it's okay. That's what counts. Then maybe he doesn't need to say sorry. This isn't about him. He sighs in defeat, giving up.

"Don't tell him I've been here" he mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Wouldn't dream of it" Zayn answers, and he turns to leave. If Harry moved on, then maybe it's time for him to move on too.

. . .

"Wow. Did you get into a fight?" Ashton asks him, already grinning drunkenly over the rim of his big glass, probably filled with a disgusting mix of alcoholic beverages "Damn, your jaw, man"

"It's not broken" he mumbles, plopping down next to Ashton on the upholstered bench at their favorite bar "Just bruised" he makes a face "Still hurts like a bitch though"

Ashton grins at him, "So who did you piss off?"

"You remember Zayn?" he asks, and waits for Ashton to nod "Yeah. Him." Ashton snickers  
"When did that happen?"

"This morning" he sighs, thinking back to what happened and how Harry lives somewhere else now. Maybe not even in this city? Maybe even more far away?

He might never see him again.

He swallows the lump in his throat, lifting his hand for the waitress to come over, before ordering a beer. He could use that now. Ashton grins, clearly amused by his pain "So you got hit by your ex-affair's new boyfriend, what a great way to start the day"

He frowns a bit, despite Ashton clearly not being as sympathetic as he might would have liked, his friend said something that startled him, "Boyfriend? Zayn is not Harry's boyfriend"

"Are you sure?" Ashton asks him and drinks the last bit out of his glass "I remember you saying that Zayn probably likes Harry more than a friend. And now, with you out of the picture, don't you think he would make his move?" He just stares a bit, deep in thought, if Zayn and Harry are together now, the green-haired man would have another reason for not wanting him near Harry, of course, that idea is a little bit far fetched, since Harry's never shown any interest in Zayn and always said he was just a friend.

No, wait. That is not completely true.

"They did went out on a date once" he muses, thinking back to where he met them at the mall.

Ashton nods, before saying "There you have it"

"But that doesn't make any sense" he states "If they are together, why would Harry move away?"

"Maybe he moved in with Zayn" Ashton says, and. And yes, that must be it.

He sighs, the thought of the young man being together with someone else, irks him somehow. "God" he groans, putting his face into his hands, "What is wrong with me?"

"What?" Ashton asks, "Why? Are you seriously angry now, that you can't fuck him anymore, or-"

"That's not what this is about" he snaps, fixing Ashton with a glare. As if he cares about sex. As if that's what's important to him. Of course he desires Harry, but that is not the reason for his anger, for his jealousy. And then Ashton just looks at him, and realization must have hit him when he just breathes out a "Oh". He watches Ashton's face change, from shock to realization, to something else, and there must have been something in his own features, because his friend suddenly looks unusually sympathetic "Oh, Louis"

"What?" he asks sharply.

"You actually like him" Ashton says, eyes wide "I thought he was just, you know, an outlet for your curiosity, nothing serious"

"It's not serious, it has never been" he grits out, and it's a lie. God damn. It has been something. That with Harry, something...special, something he knows he will not find so soon again. Why did he throw that away again? Ah, yes, for a girl he stopped loving, but realized it too late. What a wreck. What a fucking wreck. "It's been a year" he says then, "People change, I changed, and I will never see him again. It's time to move on"

He is just repeating his thoughts from earlier. Hell, if Harry really got together with Zayn then...then he can be happy for him. That he found someone. But shit, how can he get over him so quickly? When he isn't over Harry at all?! God, the chaos that little brat brought into his life. Louis hates him for it, sometimes.

Because he is still not moving forward. Harry reached his hand out for him back then, all the time. All he had to do was take it. But he didn't, and he let Harry drown. And now here he is, and that warm hand is not there anymore, and now he is the one who feels like drowning.

Open hands are hard to hold onto.

He wrecked it, and ruined everything that had made him happy. He lost two people, and what does he have now?  
"I didn't know it meant that much to you" Ashton says, and Louis looks at him. Of course he didn't, Louis thinks, if he didn't realize it himself, how would Ashton?

"Nothing" he murmurs, words feeling heavy on his tongue, and maybe in five years he can laugh at the irony, "It meant nothing"

Harry made him feel free, liberated and unrestrained. In a way that was both exciting and absolutely terrifying. When he met him, he realized that he hasn't actually explored sex as much as he thought he had. Fuck, Harry made him feel so insatiable all the time, even more so because he couldn't have him whenever he felt like it. But he wanted him. All day, all night. His lips and his ass and his gasps. And he was insatiable.

Always willing to please, so patient and ready to take whatever bruising love Louis had thrown at him. And Louis would be lying if he said he never realized that Harry felt something for him. But in Louis's mind, that has always been just a little crush. A teenager in love. But when he thinks about it now, he knows he must have been blind. Disregarding Harry's feelings wasn't a smart move on his part. And he wonders...he asks himself...what did he miss?

Who did he miss?

What could he have now?, would he just have accepted himself, accepted Harry, accepted that his love for Eleanor wasn't the love he thought he knew. He buried their relationship, the moment he decided to give in to his desires he had for Harry, but he never realized it. He thought his sexual confusion and his desires, his raw want, was the only thing that pulled him into Harry. It wasn't. It can't be, not when his heart clenches at the thought of never seeing him again. He knows that now.

His brain and his heart never agreed on that though, always in a war, always in denial, always protecting and setting up walls around him, that even Harry, with his love and his smile couldn't break through. Or so he thought. Because here he is now, and his walls have been ruined, torn and he sits here and thinks about all the things that could have been.  
Moving on isn't easy if you don't want to forget.  
. . .

The steady sound of a needle rings through the room, and Louis furrows his brows in concentration.  
"This doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would" the black haired girl says, keeping her arm still as Louis puts the needle to her skin again. He likes people who can withstand some pain.

"It's cause I'm good at what I do" he chuckles.

The woman laughs, "You know, I've wanted to cover up this scar and this old messed up tattoo for a while now...I'm glad it's finally gone soon"

He grins slightly, "Sometimes tattoos really can cover up the past"

"I'm Kendall, by the way" she says then, and grins down at him, from where she is sitting "You are Louis, right?" He just nods, trying to keep Kendall's arm still as she twitches a bit.

"Robin told me" she says, and Louis raises her eyebrows in surprise, "You know her?" he asks, keeping the needle steady.  
She nods, "She recommended you"

He hasn't really talked to Robin since Eleanor and him broke up, Robin's always been more her friend than his, but that doesn't mean they didn't get along well, in fact, he always appreciated her dry sense of humor.  
"Wow" he says "I haven't heard from her in over a year" he shakes his head a bit, in disbelieve. Has it really been that long? His and Eleanor's break up seems old,

and rusty, and the wound has healed. It doesn't hurt anymore. But one year already? That's an awfully long time.  
"How's she doing?" he asks.

"She's good, doing great actually" Kendall sighs, "If you want to see her again, she and her soon-to-be husband are throwing a little party tomorrow night, I bet she would be happy if you come around"  
"Mh" he hums a bit "I don't want to impose"

"Ah, don't be silly!" Kendall laughs "She would be happy about it"

"I don't think that's a good idea" he sighs, although he admits, he would like to see her again too, just to catch up. But Eleanor could be there, he doesn't want to see her again. Even after a little bit over a year, he wants to avoid her. He hasn't seen Eleanor in a year and he hasn't seen Harry in over two years, and really, things should stay that way.  
The past should stay where it is.

. . .

Except Kendall gets him to go.

He doesn't even know how it actually happened, but he is here now, at Cowell's bar because apparently, the owner of said bar, is her fiance. Robin greeted him with a warm smile and a "Louis! How have you been? I'm glad you came" And he congratulates her and asks when the wedding is, he smiles politely and tells her, that really, he is good, doing great, and ah, yes, Eleanor is not here? That's good. Good.

He is just launching into a story about how Ashton always had a crush on her, and is probably heartbroken now that she is getting married, she smiles and laughs and then-  
There's a young man. On the other side of the room. Talking to Kendall. Smiling. There are all kinds of smiles in this world, but some you just don't forget. 

Some you learn by heart.

Words die in his throat. The people around him disappear. The music fades out like someone's twisting the volume button down. He's not gone in the next second. He's still there. He's smiling in a way that reaches his eyes – green, a gorgeous green, not that Louis can see it from here, but he remembers, he still – nodding energetically, and then he laughs, bright and happy, a drink in his hand.

He can't breathe. He can't think.

Someone blocks the view, taking him away from his sight, and he panics, and the world kicks back into motion.

"So what did Ashton say - ...Louis? Where are you-?"

His steps are rushed, panicked. His hands are sweating, ears pounding with a rush of blood, and he doesn't believe that he really saw what he saw. This party. This day. All these people. Two years.  
And there he is. Drawing him in again.

And he hasn't changed shape, hasn't transformed into someone who merely looks like him.

It's Harry.

He remembers when they met in front of this bar once, and how he said that this bar doesn't let any minors in, and well...Harry isn't a minor anymore. It's been two years and Harry looks older. His hair is a bit longer. And it suits him, it does, and he's more stunning than any of his worn out memories he has of him, the ones he's twisted and turned in his head night after night.

"Hey"

His voice comes out breathless. If Harry doesn't react, then this is just a mirage, some fucked up combination of false hope and bourbon tea mixed with whiskey. But Harry does react. He turns his head, sees him and stops. Shock flashes on his features, and he actually takes a step back as if he's been hit by surprise, the smile vanishing, mouth remaining parted, eyes widening.

The lights of the club change for a second, and Louis can see his face probably. He looks completely thrown off as he takes him in. He can't believe his eyes either.  
It's been two years. Two years. Fuck.

Kendall says "You two know each other? Oh that's great! He's the one who did my ink, Harry"

He ignores her, focusing on Harry who seems panicked, like he now realizes that he has to answer. He says, "Hey."

His voice. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It's him. It's him. He had given up, but here they are again. After two years, meeting again.

"I met him in a park" Louis says.

And Harry drops his gaze from his face. It feels like rejection. It's hard to swallow, a painful knot inside his guts. An urgency. His heart's beating fast inside his chest, full, nuclear. A meltdown right in his chest and there is now way he can stop it. Harry looks at the Kendall "The park where I used to go with Bobby"

"He loved me the moment he saw me" Louis jokes, and he means Bobby, of course. Harry flinches though and he looks at him again. He feels like he is buzzing under that stare. Blood. Adrenalin. Memories. Fire. Him.  
Kendall looks between them, and no one says anything. Harry holds his gaze, but he's nervous, Louis can see that, in the way his fingertips tap against his glass "Well..." Kendall says. She sounds uncomfortable. She motions behind herself randomly. "I think I'll just go and..."

And then she's gone.

He steps closer to Harry. Someone walks by, pushing him forward, and they are forced to step closer to each other in the crowded room. He could reach out to touch him and- "What are you doing here?" he asks. Pick one out of millions.

"The party?" he asks back. He looks pale and put off. "Was invited"

He thought Harry was gone for good. But now he is here. And that is...that he met him tonight. It's destiny. Fate. That's what it is. That their paths are crossing, colliding. That they were meant to meet again. The initial shock seems to have faded. Harry might be angry. He might not give a shit. Louis has only pictured this a thousand million times. But Harry's not relaxed. He's on edge.

What did he expect?

"God, it's been a while, huh?" he shakes his head in disbelief. Still not over the fact that Harry is here, talking to him, looking so, so good. "So how have you been?"

"Good. Really good." He's nodding like he's busy agreeing with himself. "Just great."

"That's good,"

He's glad. If Harry is happy, then he is glad.

"I heard you and Eleanor broke up" Harry says and. Oh. Wow. Not beating around the bush, Louis looks down to his shoes. "Robin told me about it. I'm sorry." It sounds rehearsed. Why? It's not his fault. He was there; he knows Louis is the one who made the mistakes. Why be sorry?

"Yeah, whatever. It's not your fault" Louis says, looking back into Harry's eyes that are alive, unsure but alive. Fuck, he's breathtaking.Harry looks surprised then and he feels angry at himself. He always made Harry feel as if everything is his fault. But he did nothing wrong, god, he never did and Louis still- God, he can't count his mistakes.

He scratches the side of my head and looks around casually. His heart beats fast. Fuck. This is it. That moment. Harry's here. With him. This is it.  
"Hey, you wanna get out of here? Catch up over a few beers?"

Speak fast. Convince him. Confuse him. Don't let him think. Get him out of here. Get him to come with him. Don't let him replay it in his head, all that happened, what he said, what Louis said, what he did, what Louis didn't do, because if he lets Harry think about it, Louis knows he has lost.  
Speak faster. Convince him.

It flashes before Louis's eyes: slamming Harry against the wall, the starving kisses, the way they desperately pull each other's clothes off, the way he groans, "Louis." And he'll explore every inch of his skin, kiss and lick and suck, before even thinking about pushing inside of him. He'll leave him wrecked. Leave them both wrecked. Take him all night. His words hang in the air. He adds, "I know a bar just around the corner."

That's currently closed. That will be a shame, of course. Better to just go back to his place for a few drinks. Harry seems slightly taken aback, but his eyes, god. They darken slightly, the way they used to do that. Louis can feel his pulse picks up, his palms begin to sweat. The rush he used to feel at the sight of him has changed.  
It's even worse now. God, he missed him. He clears his throat, and maybe Harry is glaring at him, Louis can't tell in the dim light of the bar, but there is barely contained anger in his voice when he says, "Look, I don't-"  
"Oi! Louis Tomlinson, right?"

God, who dares to interrupt them?

He turns around and sees a tall man coming towards him, Louis lets his eyes slide over his body, can't help it, not because he finds the other one attractive, but more because well. That guy is buff. He's dragging his large and heavy body over the floor in a way that says nobody should mess with him.

"Nick Grimshaw" the guy says, holding his hand out for him to shake, and Louis seems a bit bewildered, but hides it well, taking the offered hand, shaking it.

"You seem to already know my name" he says, and grins slightly, but it disappears quickly when he turns around and notices that Harry left. Just like that. He left.

He blinks, and he's vanished, slipped away masterfully. He tries to relocate him, almost frantically, throat tightening because how can he be gone again, already?  
"Yeah man! Heard you do some sick tats" Nick grins.

Louis tries to focus on Nick, "I- yeah" he says, "Guess I've got a reputation now" he chuckles a bit, swallowing the lump in his throat "You want one?"

"Maybe" Nick's dark lips stretch into a smile, "You know Harry?"

"What?" he asks, before catching himself "I- yeah, met him in a park when he was walking his dog"  
So simple. So reduced.

"Ah" Nick hums, "That little fur-ball, we are still fighting over the best part on the couch, but I don't seem to be winning"

"Sorry?" he says, because. What? He can't keep up. What is that strange guy talking about? God. He should just fuck off so he can search for Harry again.

He thought he could put it behind him, he thought he moved on, but shit, seeing Harry again, just rattled his world, ignited a fire he sure thought had died out already. And he can feel it, right in his bones, in his veins, in his heart. Harry's burning him again. Messing him up. And shit, he still feels drawn into it.

"You know each other?" he asks.

"Yeah, well" Nick scratches the side of his head, before winking at him. "We are roommates, if you get what I mean?" he laughs a bit and looks like he just told him a secret joke. He doesn't get it.

Roommates. So Harry doesn't live with Zayn. Did they broke up? Or maybe they have never been together. What if Harry has been single these two years, and he never knew? "So you guys live around here?"

"Oh yeah" Nick says, "In the city, though. Less expensive. The landlord's an ass though" he laughs a bit, bitterly "Kinda want to break his face sometimes"

"And what is Harry doing now?" he pries, because shit, it's been two years, he is curious as fuck, and Harry didn't really seem talkative towards him. So yeah, asking his roommate behind his back is the answer.

"He goes to college now, and occasionally helps out at my auto shop. He's a great help, if he is not getting distracted" Nick laughs again,"Well, I just saw Jake at the entrance, gotta say hello, I will see ya around?"

It sounds like a question so he nods, Nick said enough anyway, and the tall man presses a business card into his hand, grinning slightly, "If you need to get your car fixed" He smiles and says thanks, pushing the sleek card into his jeans pocket and then proceeds to slide his his eyes over the crowd again, searching for a brown haired young man that just slipped out of his hands.

He almost gives up, but then he sees him on the other side of the room where the coatroom is, and he's putting his jacket on. Harry's eyes sweep back towards him, but he doesn't think that Harry can him from the masses. It aches and burns and is suffocating, and Harry's clearly intending to leave when they just met for the first time.

When there is so much to say. So much he has to make up for. So much he has to make right.

But the club lights flash on his face, and then he's gone.


	13. I'M THROUGH

>   
>  I know there'll come a time again  
>  When everything will fit right in  
>  And I won't have to see your face  
>  In strangers on the street  
>  But I would rather feel the sting  
>  Than never to have felt a thing  
>  I'll always know you were the one  
>  To rip me from the ground  
> 

Bepo says he's lost his focus.

And maybe that is true, but he thinks he never had a focus to begin with, a plan, a destination. He just took the easy road, walked along the sidelines, led himself be carried by the current. Going with the flow.

So yeah, maybe he needs a focus. Bepo is probably right.

He shouldn't have let Harry slip away. He should have made him stay. It's like he has finally placed him on a map, and now he's terrified Harry is going to vanish again. Maybe Harry went home and started packing. That's what he plans to do with his life – hide from him, run away, drive him insane. He should have asked him where he lives now. His phone number. But no, he stood there, engulfed by the crowd, letting them swallow him down as Harry did the smart thing and fucked off.

And Bepo asks him why he can't seem to concentrate.

His tattooed fingers tap against the counter, creating a nonsense rhythm, irregular and frantic. It doesn't matter that it's a city of millions when it feels like the only existence worth acknowledging is his.

"Louis!" Taylor's voice rings out of the other room "Can I finish early today?"

He walks back into the entrance room of the tattoo studio, seeing the young woman with a pleading expression, puppy eyes. Next to her is Ashton, leaning against the counter, eating pizza sloppily. "I didn't know you were here" he says, directed at Ashton, glaring a bit as the other crumbles pizza crust all over the place.

"Came by to visit" Ashton munches, "Bought pizza for you guys"

"I see" he says, but doesn't make any move to take a slide, instead he looks at Taylor, "Why do you have to go?"

"Ah!" Taylor starts, blushing a bit "It's me and my boyfriend's third anniversary," she explains with a dream-like look. "We met around eleven o'clock, and our first kiss was at one..."

"That guy that you moved here with?" Louis asks and she nods.

Taylor has only been working for him for about a month now, but Louis immediately took a liking to her, besides her artistic skill, the woman has a cheeky sense of humor, and generally creates a nice atmosphere in the workplace. She's also isn't afraid to tease him, and joke around. He doesn't like shy women. Eleanor never has been shy either. Always has been loud mouthed, curses in her speech, talking her mind. Taylor isn't like that, more sophisticated, more elegant. Bepo likes her too.

Ashton looks astonished "How can you remember something like that? I have no idea what my first kiss was like"

"Because you were probably drunk," Louis remarks.

Ashton casts him a side-glance, before he chuckles, "Yeah. Kinda."

"When you meet someone really important, you remember," Taylor says simply.

A voice rings in his head, Ashton telling him to just kiss him, Eleanor encouraging him, he refusing, thinking, not like this, not like this, and Harry looked alarmed, and he said "Come here" and then he kissed him. Just like that.

And he can still remember the way Harry made a noise against his mouth, and his warm lips, hot tongue, the barely contained want, the- "See, he remembers," Taylor says, smirking. Louis snaps out of it, noticing how both of them are staring at him. He feels like he has been caught red-handed.

"I wasn't" he says, his tone defensive, and Ashton snickers.

Shit, he wants to kiss him again. He should have done so at the party. Should have just claimed these sweet lips when he had the chance, when he- "What's on your mind?" Taylor asks.

"No one" he says, before he adds quickly "I mean nothing"

Harry didn't seem mad. That's important. He was in there, he was in the game, and then that annoying – "Shit," he blurts out.

Taylor looks baffled. "Shit's on your mind?" That guy. Harry's roommate.

"No, I –"

He's an idiot, having spent a week wondering how to find Harry again, if he needs to wander around the city in hopes of just running into him magically. God, he's an idiot. He forgot about that guy. "I need to get going," Taylor informs them from the doorway, buttoning her long winter jacket. "I need to go buy Edward his present"

"You go do that" he says, thoughts completely elsewhere. It's time for him to let his car be checked.

. . .

"Everything looks perfectly fine to me" he hears Nick say, from underneath his car.

"No, I swear" Louis says, nodding, even if the red-haired man can't see him "I'm pretty sure the oil pan is leaking, it did this morning" Nick makes a displeased sound, and Louis hopes that the oil pan can actually leak. He doesn't know shit about cars.

"Say," he says, as casually as he can, while he only sees Nick's legs from underneath his car "Is Harry here by any chance?"

"Mh, yeah" Nick mumbles, clearly distracted by something "He's outside, taking a break" Louis lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He wants to go outside, meet him, talk to him, but he doesn't want to be too obvious about it. So he waits. And fuck, if Harry tries to run for it, he will be the first to remind him that there was a time when he didn't have to chase him, when he had him good and proper. When Harry was asking Louis to choose him.

He's been thinking about it ever since. Harry claimed that he was confused and didn't know what he wanted. Fuck him. Fuck that. He knows now. Isn't that enough? And then...he sees him. Outside, through the window, shoulders drawn up and hair messy in the wind. "I'm just gonna..." he starts, and doesn't know what to say "Say hello to him, catch up" he says, and Nick hums, "That alright?"

He can hear the man laugh "Dude, you don't have to wait here all day for me to check your car"

That's good. Great.

He quickly throws his coat on, and steps outside. Harry's on the other side of the window, leaning against the brick wall. It's late November, and the sun has set, and he's wearing a black shirt that cannot be keeping him warm. As always, Louis nearly groans in frustration at the lack of appropriate clothing.

Harry truly hasn't changed, and now he isn't even there anymore to take care of him. Louis tries his best to look taken aback by Harry's presence. As if it's a coincidence. As if. "Oh. Hey." Harry glances at him. His hair falls over his eyes a lot more than it used to. Looks good on him. His green eyes give nothing away. It's a wall that he hadn't had when they met, since then he seems to have built it. Not letting him in. Clever boy.

Just as Louis starts to think Harry has no plans of saying anything, he asks, "What are you doing here?"

"Getting my car checked" he shrugs, "Nick said at the party if I ever-

"You don't seem surprised to see me," Harry interrupts, still just as scrutinizing.

He could say things like 'Guess the universe wants us to meet' but shit, Harry wouldn't buy it. He's not that type of a romantic, and the universe doesn't give a fuck. "Still kind of weird, right? Bumping into each other" he just says then.

"Yeah." Harry's voice doesn't show any enthusiasm, interest or excitement over the thought. He's making him work for it.

"You disappeared pretty fast from the party last week. Didn't get the chance to catch up properly" Harry shrugs nonchalantly, and he's getting pretty damn good at this not-looking- Louis-in-the-eyes thing he's got going on.

"I heard you go to college now, that's good. That you got the chance to do that" Harry just shrugs again. Louis is getting annoyed.

"You and Nick moved into the city together? Or-"

Harry nods, interrupting him again "I followed him here"

"You're a good friend." Louis says and the black-haired young man gets a twisted smile on his face, as if he knows something Louis doesn't. "What?"

Harry takes a breath, before he says "He's my partner"

Louis keeps staring. Have they co-founded a company or what?

"As in my boyfriend. Lover. Whatever you want to call it, that's what he is"

"What?" Louis laughs "Are you Nidding me?" Harry's bullshitting him now. He has to. He looks through the window and sees Nick, black hair, a dark look, oil and dirt on his cheek. Louis tries to visualize Nick with Harry but can't. "That guy?" he clarifies, trying to find the joke, but Harry just nods. "He said you're roommates"

Harry rolls his eyes "Yeah. Roommates" and then, Harry winks at him, just like Nick did back at the party. And alright...yeah. Louis got the joke now. Roommates who fuck each others brains out. That's what they are. God, there's no need to fill his mind with images of them fucking. That guy?

That guy?

That guy's not right for Harry. Anyone can see that.

"But he is-" Louis starts, but doesn't get far, Harry's interrupting him once again.

"I'm happy, alright?" he says, and he smiles, "Nick is nice and funny and supporting. We are really happy, so..." he stops, shrugging "I'm just very lucky" Throw it in his face then, you immature brat. "Everything's just really amazing right now" he adds, and nods. Not looking at him.

"Sounds great" Louis says, grits out really.

And Harry smiles at him in a way you'd smile to a stranger, or to someone you know you're never going to see again, awkward but comforting like the encounter was not as unpleasant as it could have been. Louis wants to snatch a hold of his shoulders and ask if he's fucking kidding him here. If he's done. Because it seems to him like he is, but he's not allowed to be if Louis is not.

Shit, it might be selfish but he doesn't want Harry to be able to breath without him.

Harry goes back inside, and he stays where he is. Mind racing. His throat feels tight, an angry burn deep in his guts. Through the window, he sees Nick smiling at Harry warmly. They keep their hands to themselves, but Louis can't ignore it now – the two of them together.It hurts.

. . .

"We should really discuss what we do tonight," Ashton says.

"It'll be fun" Taylor smiles "I mean, it's just going to be me and a few of my friends, but you should come along If you want to"

"You're coming too, you know" Ashton now informs him, and Louis looks confused. He really didn't listen to them. Thoughts elsewhere. He can't stop thinking about it. Everything. So Harry found love. How fucking nice.  
No, no, he should be happy that Harry is happy. And he is. He would just rather have Harry be happy with him.

Louis can't say for sure that he regrets leaving Harry two years ago, because back then he still believed he and Eleanor would work it out somehow. That their love wasn't lost. What he regrets is the way they departed. It couldn't have been more nasty.

He knows it's his fault.

When he met Harry two years ago the boy was a mess. Emotionally still not over his sister's death, on a break year, not knowing what he wants to do with his life, little to no money, and now?  
Now what? He's got a boyfriend, and a home, and is getting himself a proper education, playing house with Nick Grimshaw. Who the hell is he kidding?

They're so happy, though, all sunshine and puppies and confetti and rainbows, and everything. Fuck them. And what has he done in two years? Eleanor broke up with him, he moved out, he opened up his tattoo shop, which now earns him more money than he ever got at the hospital, and he works his ass off every fucking day. What a fucking life.

He is pissed off at everything and everyone.

Ashton says, "Last night. At the bar. We talked about this, and by 'we' I mean Taylor and I" Ashton grins at him "Ice skating"  
What?

"Ice skating?" he repeats "As in... the thing where you put on skates and go on ice?"

"Taylor thought it was a great idea! Bepo's going and then Taylor said something about how her boyfriend and a few friends are coming too" Ashton grins like a maniac, staring at Louis expectantly. He has to be high. No one in their right mind would think that is a good idea. It's cold out there, it's early December, he hasn't ice skated even once in his life and he doesn't plan to start now.  
He's got broken bones already.

"Does the guy who runs the rink sell drugs?" he asks, trying to figure out what's really going on, and Ashton rolls his eyes. So they want to run ahead and join picket fence America, get into the Christmas spirit. He seriously needs new friends.

"It'll cheer you up" Taylor says, clearly seeing the 'hell no' on his face. "It might," Ashton agrees "You've been really moody lately"  
He grits his teeth.

"I'll come along and watch you stupid fuckers fall on your asses. I'm not skating. I've got dignity"

"Sure you do" Shach grins, and Louis knows he will regret this.

. . .

He buttons up his winter coat the best he can to protect from the cold. Ashton hails them a cab. "We can go drink ourselves stupid next weekend, yeah?" he asks when they're crammed in the backseat, Taylor having taken the passenger seat. The wipers of the car keep making a wheezing sound against the window.

"Course," Ashton promises. Taylor adjusts her hat and Bepo tries to get snow out of his hair. When they get to the rink, he realizes it's bigger than he expected. Dozens of skaters are gliding on the ice, kids screaming, people inching forwards with arms outstretched to balance themselves. It's getting dark now, but there are lights around the edges, illuminating the ice and the skaters. The trees of the park are naked, rising high into the air, and behind them, skyscrapers take over the skyline. They can't find the others at first, but then Taylor spots her boyfriend already on the ice. Bepo and Ashton stay behind to buy tickets while he and Taylor walk to the barrier that surrounds the rink.

Taylor waves her boyfriend over, blond hair, tall, and despite the obvious scar on his face, Louis thinks he looks like a puppy and he gets a strange feeling of familiarity. Has he met him before?  
The man skates across the ice, quite skilled actually, obviously having done this before, before greeting them both.

"Edward", she smiles "That is Louis, you know, my boss, I've told you about him"

The blond man extents his hand and Louis takes it to shake. The man got a good grip. Louis can appreciate a confident handshake. "Have I met you before?" he asks, and Edward shakes his head 

"Unlikely, we only moved here over a year ago"

Ashton and Bepo join them and greet Edward too, huge smiles on their faces, excited. He knows both of them haven't ice skated since they were young boys.

Louis sighs, what a great way to spend a Friday night.

"Come on," Taylor says to them "The others are here" Taylor and Bepo take the lead. Louis grudgingly treads behind. Ashton waits for him, and then he leans close, voice lowering so that Taylor and Bepo don't hear him as he adds a mischievous, "Don't say I never did anything for you"

He blinks at him, confused, eyes focusing on the backs of three guys Taylor is now talking to. He follows Ashton, hands deep in his pockets. There's guy with crazy, blonde hair , almost exploding around his head. He looks young, twenty-two at most, relatively short and tiny, really cute, and then his eyes slide to the other two and-

"Ashton, Bepo, Louis, meet Luke, Harry and Nick," Taylor says, motioning between the two groups, "Guys, this is Ashton, and these are my co-worker and boss, Bepo and Louis"  
Ashton is by his side now, grinning broadly. The fucker planned this. The fucker. Harry gives Ashton and him a strained smile.

"Louis Tomlinson! We meet again!" Nick now enthuses "God, what a coincidence!"

"Yes. That's exactly what it is," Ashton says with unconvincing nods. "Well," he then laughs, "let's go put some skates on!" Louis takes the opportunity to say, "Ashton, a word?" before promptly leading him away from the guys as they now head over to the skate booth. Ashton is giving him an all-knowing smirk, like he's just done something extremely remarkable. Louis looks at him, trying to understand this. "What the fuck?"

Ashton instantly launches into it "Taylor knows Harry! And I was talking to her last night, and she said she was going skating with her boyfriend Edward, who, now hold onto something, is Harry's brother! And I thought, it's not a common name, is it? So I asked a few questions and realized it was your Harry! And now he's here! He's not gonna turn you down twice, is he? You can definitely get him into bed this time!" He acts like Louis's sex life affects him personally or, more likely, he's just so intrigued by the situation that he is giving himself the right to interfere.

And now he remembers the blond guy with the scar. The guy with Harry at the mall. It clicked. He never knew Harry had another brother, he never cared enough to ask.

"Have you lost it?" Ashton shrugs. "Goddammit, Ashton!" He doesn't want to see Harry anymore. Or he does. He wanted to, but at the same time he didn't. He doesn't know. Harry made it clear that he has no interest whatsoever, and he wasn't playing hard to get either. Louis can tell the difference between the two. Harry knew he was still interested, and that makes the rejection that much worse.

"Come on!" Ashton chuckles. "He tensed up the second he realized you were here! And even now he can barely look away. He totally wants you, man."

"No, he fucking hates me" Louis corrects angrily, and Ashton looks confused. "Look, things with us came to a pretty nasty end, you know that. And Nick over there is his boyfriend, so what? I stand here while they act all lovey dovey? Not my idea of a good time"

"He's a fag?"

Louis nods, and Ashton hums like he is reassessing the situation. He doesn't seem to see what the problem is. Then he says, "I can distract him" Ashton flashes a smile at him, and Louis can't help but swear under his breath as he goes to join the rest of the party. He walks to the barrier of the rink and getting out a cigarette. He stopped smoking after he met Harry, cause the teenager didn't like the smell of nicotine on him. And he liked Harry enough to quit for him. But well, now?

He truly doesn't have a reason to give a fuck.

The snow fall has almost stopped now, only a few occasional flakes falling down. In front of him, a little girl falls flat on her ass and starts crying. Her father skates over and picks her up. Louis turns the collar of his jacket upright, trying to hide. He doesn't want to speak with anyone. He still sees him as he and the others enter the rink. Taylor's alright on skates, taking a few careful strides before she finds Edward in the mix of people, taking his hand, going clockwise. Ashton also got the whole skating thing figured out, but the cute-guy is trying hard to stand upright. Harry's doing better, but he's clutching onto Nick, who's laughing. He hopes that the both of them fall down on their asses, break their hips, and get hospitalized for the rest of winter.

"You're not joining us?" a gruff voice asks, and Louis cringes before looking up and seeing Grimshaw fucking Nick. Harry's with him, now letting go of Nick's arm and moving to take a hold of the barrier not-so-gracefully.

"I have self-respect" he tells him flatly.

He no longer has any fucking reason to pretend to be nice to this guy. Harry manages to stand still as he holds onto the barrier firmly. He's clearly not a very experienced skater, but he's doing better than Luke, who is now getting helped back up by Ashton and Bepo for what must be the fourth time. Idiot Nick says, "That's a shame!"

Fuck you, Louis thinks, and has the strong need to show the guy his middle finger.

Ashton skates over to them then, and he's surprisingly good at it, keeping his balance, even knowing how to brake. He is probably trying to stick to his distraction promise, although Louis wishes he didn't, but Ashton quickly convinces Nick to come skating with him. "You would only slow us down, man" he tells Harry, linking arms with Nick pulling him away.

He wants to ignore Harry's presence or perhaps just blow some smoke in his face, but instead, he says, "You're not very good at that" Harry glares and lets go of the barrier, wavering a little as he stands on the skates.

"At least I've got the balls to try it out, you coward"

Still so angry, Louis thinks, but maybe he likes this version of Harry a little bit better than the meek one he came to know, two years ago. He's taking tentative steps, moving right in front of him.

He's in a bad mood. Clearly the effect of him being here. And if he is worried Louis will try and flirt with him some more, he can dream on. Louis's over that. Harry tries to take off, but ice skating is clearly not one of his strong points because he loses balance, and Louis instinctively reaches out to steady him, cigarette falling onto the ice. He grips Harry's arms, and he grips his, pulling on his jacket as he swears. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I've got this, I've –"

His feet slip, and he crashes against him, body pressing into his chest. Loui's lower ribs get squashed against the barrier as Harry pulls him in, air leaving his lungs. He clings onto him for balance, and Louis fists the back of his jacket to keep him standing.

"Whoa – just –"

"I've got this, don't –"

Harry almost falls down again, pressing further into him, but then steadies. His breath washes over Loui's neck, Harry's brown curly hair pressing against his nose, and he breathes him in without meaning to. They stay still in the awkwardly fitted embrace, and Louis can't help but let his fingers tighten their hold on his jacket. It's like he's too afraid to move.

"Fuck," Harry swears eventually, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, pulling himself back. His breathing is shallow, cheeks rosy – from the cold? From whatever he's thinking right now as he looks at Louis, eyes flying over his features? Harry looks surprised. Taken aback. His eyes are wide and dark, lips red and parted. And Louis could lean in, kiss him, right here, right in front of all these people. He wouldn't care.

Harry's gaze suddenly fixes behind him. His hand instantly drops from his shoulder. "Luke. Gave up already?" He pulls back quickly, clutching the barrier again instead of Louis. His cheeks are redder than they were a second ago, and he is trying his best not to look at him.

But Louis keeps his eyes on him, taking in every detail. Harry glances at him briefly before skating away clumsily.

Must be bad if blackening bruises are preferred to his embraces, Louis thinks, before finally turning to Luke, who stays where he is like he's too afraid to come closer. Edward and Taylor skate by, waving at him. Harry's reunited with Nick, who laughs brightly, sparkly teeth and sparkly eyes and sparkly, sparkly, so fucking happy, and Louis turns around fully to lean against the barrier, before he is going to puke all over the place. His heart keeps beating fast, but he tries to ignore it.

Luke mumbles something about getting hot chocolate from the stall by the ice rink, and Louis decides to go with him. Rather that, than watch super couple on ice, or think of the way his heart picked up it's beat, alive again, from having Harry so close to him. It got to Harry too. It must have.

Luke is speaking ten miles a minute, about the way he is bad at ice-skating and how he likes his tattoos and shoes and how nice it is to meet new people and then he mentions Harry, and when Louis expresses interest, Luke seems to settle on that topic, delighted to have something to talk about with him. "No, yeah, no," he says "We met through his neighbor Zayn, if you know him?" Louis nods, because, oh yeah, he sure does. His jaw still aches at the thought of him.

"Yeah, Harry and I got along from the start. Same type of stupid humor" Luke snickers "And then I met Nick. When Harry introduced him as his boyfriend, I thought he was fucking kidding me"

Yeah, same here. Louis is still not over that.

"How long have they been together?" Louis asks, and he doesn't care if he is acting too curious. Luke doesn't even notice, just glad he is not the only one talking anymore.

"I think almost a year now" Luke muses "Maybe longer? I don't know" Well shit, he gave them two months tops. "But yeah, they have a hard time right now" Luke adds sadly, looking over to where his friends are skating over the ice, "They fight a lot, and then there is that problem with money, and Harry's three jobs-"

"Come again?" Louis interrupts him, making sure he's hearing this right.

Cute guy looks like he has said too much, but Louis looks at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. He sighs, "See, Harry was lucky enough to get a scholarship, so he payed next to nothing for college, but well, he still had to work a lot at the same time to pay for his share of the flat cause Nick's not earning enough to keep them both over water and well...Nick might be too much of a spender. They fight a lot over that" Luke shrugs a bit "His grades dropped, and he lost his scholarship because of that, and well, who has the kind of money to pay for college themselves, right?"  
Louis just nods, taking in the information.

Luke's bad at small talk. But Louis doesn't need to hear more, anyway.

Earlier today, he was ready to leave Harry to his perfect little idyllic life with Nick. And let that be it.

Except that Harry lied.

Oh sure, his life is so fucking amazing. He so moved on. He's so living a content life with his supporting boyfriend, helping him out sometimes, going to college, being happy.  
What a fucking liar.


	14. CORNER OF YOUR HEART

Louis keeps his distance from Harry after that, he's sure that life will give him an opportunity soon enough. He thought maybe they will run into each other again, or maybe Harry will come back to him on his own, after they saw each other three times in a row now. Didn't happen. And Louis would be a fool to claim that he ever honestly believed that would really become reality. Of course, Harry begging to have him back is one of his favorite fantasies and when a day at work is slow and boring, like now, he likes to entertain himself with the idea of it.

But honestly, Louis has been patient. Great things come to those who wait, he thought, but he didn't think that this great thing is the bulky form of no other, but Eustass fucking Nick in his tattoo shop.  
"Hey" Nick grins, leaning against the counter "You free right now?"

Louis tries to collect his wits, mouth closing, before composing himself. God, the sight of that guy makes him want to break something. Preferably Nick's face. He can't believe Harry would date someone like that. "Yeah" he just says, "Slow day" he looks around the empty shop, Taylor and Bepo already went home. "People canceled and post-boned their appointments. Hate when that happens" he sees how Nick's grin widens a bit, "Anyway what brings you here?"

"I want you to do my ink"

His first reaction is to raise his eyebrows high "You want me to tattoo you?"

"Yeah" Nick nods, getting a paper out of his jeans pocket, unfolding it on the counter in front of them "See?" There is sketch of an arm, and a tattoo design on it "I want it like this, you can do that right?"

Louis leans a bit forward, looking at Nick's design. "Looks like- ah," he nods in understanding "You want me to make it looks like all these metal pieces and gears are coming out of your arm?"

Nick nods, his wild hair shaking with the movement "Yeah! Cool, huh? I knew you would get it" he looks at him expectantly "So, can you do it?" Louis sighs, deep in thought. He doesn't hate Nick, no, that guy is not special enough to deserve his wrath in any way. But the thought of sitting down with this idiot for hours doesn't excite him either. He's still working everything out. What he wants, how he feels. And Nick plays a role in that, more than he is aware of, and Louis doesn't know. Doesn't matter. His thoughts are with his old lover that is dangling in front of him like a damn carrot stick for a donkey. So he's the donkey. That's great. That's fantastic. And then Nick is the other donkey that trots over and munches the stick in front of him. Bad donkey. Shoot the donkey.

"Sure," he mumbles, making his mind up, and Nick grins at him widely, dark lips stretching into a smile "Now?"

"If you got the time?" Nick asks, hopeful.

He glances at his watch, before letting his eyes rest on Nick's face once again. "How about we do the outlines first, and if we are quick enough we can get some shading in, alright?" he asks, motioning Nick to follow him into the backroom, putting on his gloves as Nick shrugs his jacket off and sits down on the chair "It's probably gonna take more than one session..."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a bit, "Depends on how long you can handle a bit of pain" Nick snorts, like he doesn't care about how much it's going to hurt, and Louis’ grin widens. He can appreciate that. He doesn't like people who make a fuss. He gets the carbon paper out of the drawer "I will make a stencil first, so you can see what it looks like...This may take a while...but we have time, right?"

"Can't you just freehand?"

He lifts his eyebrow. "I can." he says, "But most people want a stencil"

"No, just do your thing" Nick says, waving his hand as if to say that he ain't got time for that, "I have seen your stuff and Taylor said she wouldn't work here if she didn't believe you do a good job, I trust you" It's not that unheard of, but it can go wrong. He is sure of his abilities though and honestly, it kind of fits Nick, just going into action without thinking.

"Alright" he says, and gets out a razor, "I need to get rid of your arm-hair, just so you know" he says, and Nick's nods, so he proceeds to prepare Nick's skin for the tattoo, shaving and cleaning the area.

"It's gonna look so awesome!" Nick enthuses, obviously excited.

Louis doesn't say anything, looking at the paper with Nick's design, deciding on how he should start. He looks at Nick's arm, and shrugs a bit. It's just metal pieces and gears, not a lot he can do wrong.  
He rubs ointment to Nick's arm and the guy doesn't flinch when he puts the needle on his skin. He concentrates on making the outlines as thin as possible, if there is something Nick doesn't like later, he can just tattoo over it. He likes tattoos like Nick's, and if he is honest, he couldn't have chosen a better design for him. The metal will need a lot of shading to be realistic, but it will be very forgiving, since he is going to ink the whole arm. 

"You want color later, or...?" he asks, although he would rather not talk to him. These questions are unavoidable.

"I don't know yet" Nick says, "Maybe red or blue? What do you think?"

He looks up at the bulky man, before glancing back down at his work again, "I think you should keep it all in black shades"

"Yeah! Might gonna do that" Nick laughs a little bit, suddenly, and Louis holds his arm tight, to keep it from twitching underneath his needle "Harry's gonna flip his shit"

Seriously? He wants to talk about Harry to him?

"He doesn't know?" he just asks, as casually as possible.

"He thinks I'm just looking at some designs for today, y'know..talking about the price, and what not." Nick says, wide grin on his face "I doubt he thinks I would just jump into it like that, but whatever right? I know what I want" Louis hums. The price, huh? It just reminds him of the conversation he had with Luke.

"He doesn't mind you spending so much money on a tattoo?" he asks, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Nick glancing at him, before letting out a deep sigh. He is prying, whatever. Nick doesn't know Harry used to be...what? His boyfriend? His Lover? His Secret?

Just his? His Harry. That sounds good.

"It's my money – I can do what I want with it" Nick says, defensive even thought he doesn't have to be, pulling him out of his thoughts, and he can't help but frown a bit.  
Helping your boyfriend pay for college is not one of them? Louis doesn't ask. It isn't his business after all. "Besides-" Nick starts, but then shakes his head before he says "I love that kid, you know? I truly do, but the moment we are talking about money? That's just too far"

Louis doesn't say anything, hands clenching tight around the needle. He would give Harry the money. Nick and him are very different in that aspect. He doesn't have a problem with helping his loved one out. He gave Eleanor all the money she needed for years, and he would do the same for Harry. He doesn't know if he is the stupid one, or Nick. But it doesn't matter how much money he would give Harry, his opinion isn't even worth a dime.

"How did you two meet anyway?" Louis asks. Can't help himself. Just add salt to the wound.

"We met at a party and hooked up" Nick grin widens, "Funny how a one-night- stand can turn into a relationship."

Classy.

Louis tries hard not to jam the tattoo needle into Nick's throat.

"Good for you" Louis says, and wishes Nick would just die. Like. Right now.

"Yeah! And we've only been together for...like a year now, but I feel like it's been ages" Nick smiles this little smile only lovers can smile, like his mind is suddenly filled with memories only he and Harry share. Memories expanding over two years. That's a lot of memories. That's a lot of time spent in each other's exclusive company. That's a lot of mornings waking up together.  
He shouldn't have asked.

"Yeah..." he sighs, fingers tapping a rhythm against the arm of the chair "When I met him he was a mess, though" he adds and Louis perks up.

"How come?" he asks, carefully, afraid that he already knows the answer.

"Some asshole left him high and dry, he was really...I don't know...down." Nick says, and Louis halts in mid-air for a moment, heart clenching. Genuine concern is heavy in Nick's tone, and it suddenly sinks into him like wolf's teeth. Nick loves Harry. Probably. Most likely. One years. You don't stick around someone for that long if you don't love them. And Harry said it too, straight to his face, that he's happy with Nick.

God. He left Harry in a mess and this guy, this guy, picked him up again? Now what? Does he owe him a thank you? He supposes he does.

"Took some time until he got back on his feet again, of course, the reunion with his brother helped a lot"

"When I met him he only had one sister, and that one was dead" Louis says bluntly, because it's true, and Harry never mentioned Edward at all. Or maybe he did and Louis wasn't listening?

"Yeah, he moved away to study abroad and they lost contact" Nick shrugs a bit, and Louis holds his arm down out of reflex.

"Sorry" Nick says, and Louis mumbles that it doesn't matter. Not his tattoo that will have shaky lines.

He doesn't say anything, concentrating on his work, and he doesn't even know how much time passes, until he hears the little bell ring on the front door, indicating that someone entered his shop. He is just about to stop his work, and check who it is, when a loud cheerful, female voice shouts "Louis! It's me!" through the shop.

"In the back" he says, just loud enough to let his voice carry to the front, putting the needle on Nick's skin again. Not a second later Taylor stands in the door, cheeks rosy red, a fluffy hat on her head, orange and bright winter-coat, hugging her small and elegant body, she looks fashionable, he thinks and then his eyes glide to the person next to her and he nearly digs the needle deeply into Nick's skin.

"Hi" Harry breaths, standing a bit awkwardly next to Taylor, not looking at Louis, his eyes gliding over the ink on Nick's arm. Louis can't read his expression at all. He looks good, tightly wrapped up in a red winter-jacket, mittens on his hands, his cheeks are red as well. He looks adorable.

"Hi" Nick and Louis say back. God, they both are donkeys.

"What brings you guys here?" he asks.

"Yeah, what are you doing here?" Nick queries, looking perplexed, like he didn't expect his boyfriend to march in.

"We're going Christmas shopping." Harry says, before he pauses for a moment, "We are, aren't we?" There's an edge of ominous gloom in Harry's voice, and Louis already knows what that means. God, Harry can be feisty. And with the way Nick nervously looks to Taylor, as if asking for help, he knows it too.

"Oh! That- That was today? I thought. I mean." Nick sounds thrown off. "Shit, you want me to go now?"

"Well, yeah," Harry says, and a tense silence lands between them, before Nick huffs, sighs, and says, obviously defeated, "Alright, alright, we'll clean up here" before asking "Could you get the car in the meantime? I parked it two blocks down and –"

"You want me to do it when you should have been ready when I got here?" Harry asks disbelievingly, and Nick opens his mouth like he's going to say his piece, but Harry says, "You know I can't work that thing; the gears are fucked."

"You just need to give the gear stick a little shake like I showed you, and –"

"But I'm telling you that it won't cooperate with me!"

"You need to be more gentle and -"

"I've tried! That car just doesn't like me!"

"I'll do it" Taylor pipes up then, out of nowhere. "If you show me how to drive it, I bet I can get it, I'm a little magical with cars"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," Harry concedes and takes the keys that Nick is now giving him. "Clean up now" he says, eyeing Nick's half-inked arm "Stores will close in an hour, and I want to get Zayn something nice, alright?"

"Of course" Nick says, sending Harry what looks like an appeasing smile, but Harry just turns on his heels and marches out. "Christmas shopping," Nick says turning to him again, once they are left alone, widening his eyes almost comically to indicate how insane he thinks it is.

"Yeah." Louis doesn't see the point in saying anything more.

He cleans up Nick's arm, putting some ointment on the ink, before applying a bandage, "You can come again tomorrow if you like" he says, "Please keep the bandage on till then"

"Will do, thanks" Nick says, "Sorry about him" He's talking about Harry. To him. God fucking damn it. He can handle Nick alone, fuck, he could even handle Harry. But he can't handle both of them around him.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, really. He can be like that sometimes–"

"Really. I don't care" Shut up. God, shut up, shut up, shut up.

"Okay." Yet, after a short pause, he says, "I want to get Zayn a good present too, you know. Keep myself in his good graces, although we get along good" Nick laughs a little.  
Zayn hated his guts. Thought he was no good for Harry. Yeah, he was right and probably delighted to know it. Bastard.

"Zayn can be damn scary when he's mad, so Harry's probably right about the present" Nick grins.

He's joking around, but Louis can't bring himself to laugh. "Yeah. I guess."

"Yeah..." His voice is lingering somehow, catching his attention, and when he is done cleaning up, putting the ink away, he looks over to Nick, who's still sitting in the chair. He looks thoughtful and unsure. "You, um. Can I ask you something?" His voice sounds nervous. Louis nods, because if someone asks you if they can ask you something, you can't really say no. "I know that you've known Harry for a few years now right? He said he met you over two years ago...right?"

Nick is definitely the last person in this world he would want to discuss that time with.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, so... did Zayn and Harry ever...?" His voice trails off, and he does a vague hand motion. "I mean. Did it seem to you that the two of them might have...?"  
He doesn't know what he was expecting Nick to say, but definitely not that, and he laughs without meaning to. Harry hasn't told him. That he slept with Zayn once. God. Nice to know he is not the only one getting left out of Harry's 'Guy's-I-had-sex-with-list'.

What else has Harry kept from him?

He shakes his head a bit to himself. So what? Harry told Nick that there was some asshole who left him, but he didn't point his finger at him. He never told Nick who it was. He doubts the man would get his tattoo done by him then. Why does knowing such a little thing feel so utterly important now? It shouldn't mean anything. 

But god. It does.

"Zayn and Harry are just friends. Were the last time I checked, anyway," he says then, suddenly getting a slice of Nick's paranoia.

But really? who knows what happened after they were over. Maybe Zayn decided to comfort Harry a little. Again. And maybe he fucked him in his little apartment, right on the couch, giving Harry the best orgasm of his life. Yeah, maybe. Who knows?

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," Nick then says, frowning like he's not sure what's wrong with him. "Harry's just been off lately. Something or someone's got to be on his mind." Nick laughs a bit, like he is embarrassed. "I thought that maybe, you know. He and Zayn. Because Zayn always been overly protective of Harry. I figured that maybe it was jealousy or something. That maybe Zayn was or that at one point they had... I don't know." He stands up now from the chair "Never mind. Sorry, it was stupid."

"Probably just Christmas stress," he offers, telling his suddenly rapid pulse to calm the fuck down. He quickly looks away in fear of Nick reading something on his face that he really shouldn't.

Someone's distracting Harry. Someone's on his mind.

The door opens again, and Harry walks in. He almost flinches. Nick puts on a smile that can't be genuine but certainly looks like it is. Then again, he doesn't know him very well. Harry takes in a deep breath and says, "I know I've parallel parked cars when I've been high as fuck, but I swear to god that I cannot park that thing outside and we're holding up traffic and a taxi driver is threatening to kick dents into the car so-"

Nick goes instantly "I'll take care of it."

Harry breathes out, stress almost visibly draining out of him, before turning to him. "Taylor said I should help you clean up? You are done for today, right?"

He nods.

Louis keeps waiting for something to happen. He doesn't know what. An explosion, fire, smoke. Because Harry just always brought chaos to his thoughts. Always made him confused. The air feels like it's been stretched out to its limits, is getting pulled at the corners, and even the smallest movement might cause it to break, but at the same time he feels chained down and unable to do anything about it.   
Harry unwraps the scarf around his neck, giving him a small, meaningless smile and then- 

He stops in the middle of his movement, his heart picks up his beat. "That's mine."

"What?"

"What you're wearing." His eyes focus on the scarf that Harry's now holding in his hands. "That's mine," he repeats. "I gave it to you once." His voice sounds searching. Their eyes meet, and the air in his lungs feels thin. He can't breath. "Because you were cold"

Harry shakes his head with a quick laugh "This isn't the same scarf."

"Looks a lot like it."

"Well, it's not."

"You sure? It looks like-"

"This isn't that one!" Harry snaps angrily, and Louis takes a step back, eyes widening. Stupid scarf. Stupid night. Stupid life. He doesn't know what to say now, what the hell Harry wants him to say. He seems to be at a loss for words too. Harry's still wearing something he gave him a long time ago, and it means something, they both now that. If he can't let go of that scarf. If that's what he's keeping from their relationship.

"Harry, I think we've got to-" he starts, but if on cue the little bell on the front door rings, and he knows his chance has passed. Taylor's and Nick's voices ring through to them and Harry seems to welcome the chance for an exit, slipping out of the backroom quickly, slipping out of his hands, before Louis can even make a chance to stop him.

They don't stay around to chit-chat, wishing him happy holidays and then Harry leaves, his hand being held tightly by Nick.

He closes up the shop, and when the cold air hits him he takes a deep breath, before he presses his face to his palm and let's himself grin. His lips stretch wide against his hand, his fingers smelling of nicotine, the hard, calloused tips pressing into his forehead. He take in a calming breath or two before leaning against the door.

He can't seem to stop smiling. He's the distraction.

He never really let Harry go, and he is sure, somewhere in the corner of Harry's heart, there is a place for him too.

. . .

Life has strange way of throwing things into your face. Things that you pick up in your tired hands, and don't really now what you are supposed to do with it. You twist it, and you turn it around but it doesn't make any sense. Harry wearing his scarf doesn't make any sense if it doesn't mean a thing.

So after spending Christmas alone, what he does is really stupid and reckless, but fuck, there isn't necessarily anything else he can do to tip the scale in his favor, so why the fuck should he not try to persistently show Harry that he wants him back? Now that he knows Harry's life isn't as perfect as the boy made out to be.

That he lied to him. That he lies to Nick. And maybe he lies to himself.

So standing in front of Harry's and Nick's apartment, maybe doesn't make any sense, but doing nothing and waiting around doesn't either. He does this for himself, or he will go crazy. If he won't talk to Harry, if he won't offer him what he has to offer, he would go crazy. He is just about to knock on the door, lifting his hand, anticipation bubbling inside his stomach, when the door opens from the inside.

And there is Harry, holding himself up by the door frame while he balances on one leg, trying to get into his shoes. He looks up at him through his black bangs, and then nearly loses his stand, when he gets out a confused "Louis?"

"Yeah" he just says "Are you in a hurry?"

"Gotta work in an hour and it's a long drive, but Nick took the car so now I've got to take the bike and- yeah. I'm in a hurry. Fuck, what do you want?" Harry rushes out, quickly putting on a winter jacket and a scarf.

It's not his scarf this time. Harry probably burned it.

"I wanted to talk" he just says and Harry stares at him for a moment, before kicking back into motion, grabbing his keys and walking past him and out of the door, closing it behind him.

"Well. Sorry, I've got no time" he just mumbles, and walks down the stairs, Louis blinks, before finally deciding to follow him.

"I can take you there if you want to" Louis says, looking at his watch, "Or will you make it in time?"

"I-" Harry swears a bit under his breath, before taking his phone out, still walking, "Fuck, I-" He seems to fight with himself, and Louis stuffs his hands into his pockets, waiting for an answer.

"God, fine" Harry huffs eventually, and Louis grins.

Once they are seated in the car, the engine starting softly, and Harry gives him directions, Louis can't help but say what is on his mind.

"You are a liar"

He glances at Harry, who looks too surprised for it to be an authentic reaction "Don't know what you mean"

"It's nasty habit" Louis says, because god, doesn't he know? "You should do something about it" Harry doesn't answer so he says "College? Working three jobs?"

"I didn't lie." his tone is defiant, and when Louis scoffs, he fiercely counters, "Okay, I might have embellished the truth a little, but I hardly lied"

"Do you really care what I think?"

"No."

"See, I told you it'd become a habit."

Harry shoots him a glare, crossing his arms over his chest. Louis’ not trying to pick a fight. Harry just lied when he didn't have to, when he could have just said how it was. He had his share of shitty jobs back in the day. He gets it. "Luke just said some things, and –"

"Fucking Luke," Harry mumbles bitterly, but the kid shouldn't take the blame for telling him the truth.

"Look, I know you lost your scholarship because Nick didn't wanna help out financially, so you had to take on three jobs, to pay for everything, your boyfriend's spending included, I think?" he asks, but Harry ignores him, probably thinking how it was a mistake to get into a car with him. Well, shit luck. He is here now, and Louis doubts he would just jump out. Although, he isn't so sure about that. Harry can get pretty reckless. "Look, I just think you could-"

"You wouldn't get it." Harry snaps angrily "You don't get it. We're a team, Nick and I. We work together," he informs him. "Love is about sacrifice," he says.

"No, it's not" Louis answers, he knows that now. After his relationship with Eleanor. Love is not about sacrifice. "You always think it's about putting yourself second, and you always did that, but it's not and you gotta-"

"Don't you dare to tell me what to do!"

Silent settles over them, and he grips the steering wheel tightly. He feels if he doesn't, he will just let it go to grab Harry's shoulder and shake some sense into him. The boy still has so much to learn.  
He arrives at their destination, and he realizes it's at Tony's. Their restaurant. Where the pizza was great, and Harry's company was even better. He halts the car, and Harry looks ready to get out as soon as possible, but then Louis asks "Do you need money?"

"What?"

"If you need money, all you got to do is ask."

He doesn't get the reaction he was expecting. At all.

"What the fuck?" he ask quietly, every syllable oozing venom. "I don't- I don't want your money! We don't need your money. God!"

"Why are you pissed off at me? I'm being nice."

"Like you were ever nice," Harry retorts, the words cutting deeper than they should. "What are you doing, Louis? I have no idea what kind of a game you're playing here, but I love Nick, and I don't –" He looks at him still defiant. That's him. He'll go down fighting. "I'm not taking your money."

"God, don't be so damn proud"

"That's it" Harry mutters angrily, opening up his seatbelt, and Louis panics. He can't let him go. Not yet. Not when Harry hasn't even thought about his offer probably yet, too quick to decline. So he reacts fast, pushing the button on his left side, locking the car from the inside.

"What?" Harry asks, repeatedly pushing the handle down, pressing against the door, before glaring at him "Unlock the car!"

"No" Louis says, his heart is beating quickly inside his chest, panicked, but he tries to stay calm"I will make sure you have enough money for college, I don't care"

"I don't want your fucking money" Harry snaps suddenly, anger evident in his tone"You can't bribe me. I'm not a beggar, and I need nothing from you."

Louis takes a deep breath. He just wants to help. "I just want to-"

"I don't need your help!" Harry hisses, "And I don't need you anymore!"

He flinches, can't help it. And their eyes meet as silent settles over them once again. Louis sighs, defeated. This hurts. God. It hurts. But he doesn't blame him. God, he doesn't blame Harry for reacting the way he does, and he can't find the words to make it right. Can't find the words to say how much he misses him, doesn't know how let it out, how to make Harry's heart ache just as much as his own does.

He can't let Harry go.

He pushes the button on his left, unlocking the car, and Harry looks at him one last time before leaving, slamming the door shut.

And he let's him go to his shitty job where he balances full plates onto his arms, to wait on fucking ugly bastards with heart diseases and swollen up bowels full of fat, and fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, and he leans against his seat, spine drawn up so tight that it might break in two.

Just wait a few hours, just wait, and this afternoon will be gone with all of its shit, slipping off the horizon along with the sun.

If only it was that easy.


	15. THIS IS WAR

Harry smiles against his stomach wickedly, pleased with himself. He sucks on the skin below Louis’ belly button too hard, and Louis hisses and moans. His body feels over-stimulated and overworked, and Harry hasn't even let him touch him yet. "Harry," he breathes out, and the other hums disinterestedly, working his way down. Louis couldn't be any harder for him. And still, Harry doesn't say anything.

His tongue starts moving upwards from the base of Louis’ cock, slowly, slowly, licking him. And Harry got this wicked grin on his lips, this self-satisfied smirk as he looks up at him. Louis feels wrecked and Harry knows it. That Louis is his, he knows it. Harry slowly twirls his tongue around the swollen head, getting him wet. His nails dig into the top of his thigh harder. And god, Harry's so fucking beautiful when his lips finally stretch around the head of his aching cock, the boy's burning green eyes locked with his own. Like he wants to know that Louis’ watching.  
Louis’ entire body twitches when Harry's hot mouth moves over his flesh, and after a few teasing bobs he begins to suck and suck, eyelids fluttering as he goes in deeper. "Shit," Louis hisses, his hands tangling in the younger's curly hair. Harry's cheeks hollow, the pressure around his cock tightens, and pleasure curls up in him. "Fuck, that's so good," he breathes out helplessly.  
And then, suddenly, Harry's on his back beneath him, legs spread, and Louis is pushing into him. His mouth drops open, but he makes no sound. His fingers dig into Louis’ back, urging him on, and he's so tight around him. His eyes are dark and he stares at him like he's his, and that makes Louis retreat and push in harder. But still he makes no sound. And that's confusing to him, seems out of place, because god knows Louis knows he can make him moan. Louis almost stops to ask if he's alright, but the pleasure is there, on his face. Maybe he just needs to force it out of him.  
And so he begins to fuck him hard, just how he likes it. And Harry shifts his hips, gives better access. The boy looks away, cheeks flushed, sweat forming on his forehead. His brows knit together, eyes closing as he feels the pleasure of Louis in him, undoing them both. And Louis breathes hard, keeps the rhythm steady, says, "Fucking hell" and "Shit, that's so" and "Harry, god." And Harry breathes in deep, like he's drowning, almost, and Louis leans in close, his lips dragging over the boy's rosy cheek.

Just as his lips are about to brush Harry's, everything stops. He's still in him, buried in so deep, but Harry's hands on his hips are commanding, telling him not to move. He breathes unevenly, confused and Harry's mouth hovers over his ear.

"This," Harry says at last, his voice dead, clinical, wrong, the words whispered, "is killing me."

And that's when Louis wakes up, sweat running down his temple, breath uneven. As usual.

That day he calls Taylor saying he won't come in to work because he doesn't feel well. It's the first time he ever took a day off, normally more than ready to work his butt off. Cause he truly loves his tattoo shop, and the people he has met, and his friends that he works with. But today, he just can't bring himself to show up there and tattoo Nick.

"Oh, well" Taylor says "I will call Nick then and tell him he should come on Friday, alright?"

"Make it Saturday or Monday" he says, not keen on seeing the guy tomorrow. "It's his last session anyway."

"Alright, hope you feel better soon." "Thanks."

. . .

And that was it. He got home after a long walk through the park, after running some errands, visiting their bench, and then he put on some sweatpants and a shirt, and flopped down on his couch, letting the storm rage on outside, reflecting what goes on his mind. The snow-rain hits the windows hard, just as much as his thoughts hammer his brain.

I don't need you anymore.

Louis clenches his eyes shut and lets out a heavy and frustrated groan. Fuck it all. He just wanted to help. Why does his boy have to be so goddamn stubborn?

And now he sits here, sulking. Maybe he just got too used to Harry always wanting him, that having the boy telling him 'No' just seriously shocked him. Perhaps he isn't the only one who changed, Harry did as well. But what did he do? He changed for Harry didn't he? No, not for him. Because of him. There's a difference. He can admit now that he likes men more than he thought he would. First he thought it was just Harry with his pretty eyes, dark hair, lean body. But then he noticed other men too, and well. Louis has lived too long in denial.

Louis snorts, and thanks Harry in his mind for making him realize that he is bisexual.

He didn't even noticed how much he changed because of Harry. It's hard to detect change when time doesn't stop. There are no actual chapters in life, and yeah, he can look back and think that he is different, but when the change occurred or how it came about aren't as easy to answer. Change is gradual. And he doesn't know what parts of him have transformed into something else, but he's pretty sure that a few years back he wouldn't have gone to try and make up with Harry, wouldn't have tried to help the guy out. Maybe Harry knows that. That he makes him better in some way.

And maybe he doesn't. Maybe he doesn't waste his time thinking about him at all.

But that can't be, right? He has stay on Harry's mind, he wants to stay there, he doesn't want Harry to stop thinking about him. Ever.  
He really is selfish. A really selfish guy, but that is nothing new. He doesn't mind throwing his money out of the window if it helps the people he loves, no, he doesn't mind that, not at all. What he hates is that he is thinking about someone, who doesn't care enough to think about him.

How unfair that is, really.

But then again, he had hurt Harry so much. Why would he want to see him again?

Louis sighs. Out of his desperation he pushed Harry away, trying to tell himself that he didn't mean anything to him at all. But he is sorry now, sorry that he never told him how he felt. Apologies don't mean anything when they come far too late though, and Louis knows his are long overdue. "Stupid" he murmurs to himself, as the flash of lightning lights up his room. He puts his hand over his face, pressing into his eyeballs, it hurts. "I'm so fucking stupid."

The thunder growls outside, and Louis is so deep in his thoughts that he nearly misses the ringing of his doorbell. Louis blinks a bit confused, before standing up slowly and making his way to his door. He didn't expect anyone and-

"Harry" he breathes, surprised, his heart picking up it's beat instantly, and Louis feels control slipping out of his hands once again. "What the-" he starts, but stops for a moment to take the teenager in.  
Harry is drenched, from head to toe, his hair hanging in his face wetly, his face glistening in the light, drops of water dripping down his clothes, and at his feet has already formed a small puddle. As if he has been standing there for quite some time now. Not sure if he wants to see Louis or not.

"Hi" Harry says, and his voice sounds strained.

"Uhm-" he starts intelligently, opening his door wider, indicating Harry to come in "C'mon" he urges, when Harry doesn't make a move to walk past the threshold "I'm gonna get you a towel and maybe some warm-"

"I don't plan to stay long" Harry says, and it sounds like he is reminding himself. The boy walks in though, closing the door behind him, before fixing him with a glare. 

What did he do now?

Louis doesn't really know what to say, he stops in his tracks, and the whole situation seems comically. He didn't think he would have Harry in his home so soon.  
"What are you doing here?" Louis asks, because Harry surely didn't come to chit- chat about the nasty weather.

"I got fired." Harry says, and there is anger in his voice, so barely contained, lying underneath a layer of forced calmness. As if he is going to explode any second. "I got fired, when I needed that money and I-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Louis interrupts, trying to keep up, "Why did they fire you?"

"I smashed a plate or two," Harry says, shrugging helplessly, as if to say that it's really not his fault if the plates fall down. Louis raises an eyebrow and Harry adds, "Again."  
Louis grins, can't help it, this whole situation is so bizarre.

"God, wipe that smile off your face! It's not funny!" Harry grits out, and there is still water dripping down his hair, sliding down his cheek.

"Yes, it is very serious," Louis nods, and he can barely hide his chuckle   
"I know."   
"I really needed that job," Harry sighs, "Tony's a fucking asshole."

"I'm sorry."

Harry shakes his head "I was hoping for a Christmas bonus" he says and snorts. "Can say bye to that, right?" He sighs again, and it's like he is having a conversation with himself. As if Louis’ not even here. "Fuck. Fuck, Nick's going to be so pissed."

"Were you happy there?" Louis asks, and they still stand in the middle of his living room, thunder growling outside. He doesn't know what to do.

"No."

"Then he should be happy for you."

Nick lacks vision when it comes to Harry. Fuck, this guy could be anything he chooses, and Nick doesn't get that. If he thinks Harry's better off as a waiter, then fuck him, but Harry just laughs like he just made a joke.

"I'm being honest." Louis adds.

"You were never honest," Harry says it as if it's an automatic answer, and he chuckles "You were a lot of things, but you were never-"

Louis snorts, "And what about you? You are not better. You didn't tell Nick that..." he doesn't know how to word it, feeling inadequate all of sudden. How should he put if gracefully, how can he put it in a way that it doesn't seem as horrible as it actually was. He's not about to remind Harry of all the things he has done wrong. "That we...you know. I doubt he would get his ink done by me if he knew I beat him to it."

Harry's eyes widen in disbelieve. Like he can't believe he just said that. Yeah, it's not like it was a race. Not like Nick and him are the only men to have ever gone there. But why has Harry kept quiet? He loves Nick, after all. He was shouting it from rooftops not so long ago. So why lie? The shame? The guilt? There's got to be a reason.

"It's not healthy for any relationship to recite one's entire sexual past," Harry says before tucking his wet hair behind his ear, he scratches his temple nervously. It seems like he learned that sentence by heart. "Besides, now it'd only make things weird. He likes you. He's happier not knowing, and it was just a meaningless thing, so I don't see the reason to." He stops to consider his words, but then seems to put it behind himself. "Anyway. It doesn't matter."

Louis tries to answer but he's fully stuck on 'meaningless thing". So meaningless that he has his skin crawling whenever they see each other? How meaningless can that be? He doesn't care if it's dislike because it's not indifference. It's not meaningless.

If it was meaningless, he would have told Nick.

Harry gets a twisted smile on his face before he adds, "It meant nothing, right?" Louis takes a deep breath.

Because this means nothing to me.

"I-" he says, and Harry just smiles at him, like he's a bit amused about the situation. Like this doesn't hurt him at all. But it has to, it fucking has to, because throwing his words back at him, if he can do that, if he remembers, then it must have struck deep. "Goddammit, Harry," he breathes out, rubbing his face with one hand. "I don't know what you want."

"What makes you think I want anything?"

Easy, Louis thinks, the way Harry smiles. The way he fucking smiles and the way his shoulders tense up when Louis’ close and the way Louis’ circling him and Harry knows it, he fucking knows it but isn't running away. He's here now, in his home. The way he shifts restlessly if Louis stares for too long, when he can almost taste his skin, distant memories fresh on his mind, and the way Harry's eyes sparkle when Louis says his name. But Harry keeps knocking him down and pulling him back up, and Harry wants something. Louis might not know exactly what it is, but he's got a few ideas.

"Then why are you here now?" Louis asks.

"I got fired." Harry says, and he frowns, as if sudden anger overtook him again, if even just the memory of that makes his blood boil. "I needed that job and I got fired because I can't handle balancing about ten plates on my arms! Because I'm clumsy! And I'm just tired, and just- I just don't care anymore, I-" his shoulders shake a little and Harry hides his face in his hands, as if he doesn't want him to see how desperate he feels. Louis doesn't need to see it, he can feel it all across the room. And then Louis steps forward a bit, lifting his hand to Harry's shoulder, carefully, but his arm gets slapped away quickly before he can even touch the young man at all.

"You know what?!" Harry says then, directing his anger towards him, taking a step forward, stepping into his pace, present, alive and breathtaking, hand pushing against his chest, and Louis’ eyes widen in surprise, taking a step back automatically, "I'm gonna take your fucking money! And you know why?!" Louis tries to say something, but his breath get's stuck in his throat when Harry jams a finger into his chest harshly, "Because you owe that to me! After all you have done! You fucking owe me that shitty money!"

He gets what Harry is saying. He took something away from him, he took everything Harry had to give and now, Harry tries to take something from him. Even if it's just money.  
God, it is just money. What does he care about money? He's not Nick. "Alright" he breathes out, eyes wide, and nods "I don't mind"

It's what he wanted after all. Just maybe not like this...

"Yeah, yeah" Harry mumbles bitterly, like he just made a deal with the devil, before he pulls away from him, walking towards the door again. "You don't mind. And I don't have the luxury to mind."

"Uhm," Louis starts again, before he kicks back into motion, when his brain finally works again."Where are you going?" Harry turns around again, glancing at him briefly, and shit, Louis can still see the fire in his eyes, burning with anger, filling him with heat, and Louis knows instantly that Harry hates coming to him, to have no other way but to come to him. Louis’ heart clenches at the thought.

The days when Harry came to him with an eagerness that resembled a puppy are over.

"Home" he says, "What did you think?"

"You want to walk through the fucking storm? Are you insane?" 

"Well, I ain't gonna stay here."

"What about your boyfriend? Can't he get you?"

"He's out."

"So not waiting at home for you?" Louis asks, and Harry glares at him again.

"I'm going." Harry says then, his voice sounds final, and Louis freezes. No. He can't let Harry leave yet. Not when he is here, in his home, when he has him so close, and fuck, the possibilities...

Louis can't let him leave yet.

"Look, just-" Louis catches up to Harry, closing the door when Harry opens it, "Just stay here for the night. Or as long as it takes for the storm to calm down. I can't let you walk through this, you will get sick and-"

"Why do you care?" Harry asks, and he glares a bit at him.

"You could get hurt," Louis just says, putting his hand away from the door and at the small of Harry's back, pushing him back into the room "Just...take a shower, god, you are freezing, aren't you? And I will bring you some dry clothes, and then- yeah. Sounds good?"

Convince, convince, convince.

Harry looks terrified like a mouse about to step into a trap, and he's beautiful. And he's here. Louis is not going to miss the chance to spend time with him.

"That doesn't sound good at all!" Harry says, and he stops walking, "I don't want to stay here, Louis!"

The lightning flashes, and thunder makes a loud noise outside, powerful and close. And Harry looks out of the window, where the rain is still hitting hard against the glass. He looks pleading, as if he is asking the weather to stop being such an asshole to him.

"Fine" Harry sighs, defeated, finally shrugging his wet jacket off, and Louis’ heart nearly jumps right into his throat. "Get me some clothes, I could use a shower."

"Of course."

God. Harry has got him by the balls. And by the way he grins now, kind of satisfied and maybe a bit surprised, probably means that he knows it now. But Louis also knows, that if Harry truly wanted to go home, he would have. Harry would have gone through that shitty storm with an undefeated defiance, probably cursing Louis in his mind, while rain hits his face, each drop hard like a bullet. Harry wouldn't have cared.

If he really wanted to go home, nobody could have stopped him.

Louis doesn't know what to do with that piece of information, so he just kicks back into action, taking Harry's wet jacket from him, hanging it over a chair, before giving Harry some of his clothes, just a shirt and some sweatpants, before showing him where the shower is. Soon he hears the water running, and he takes a moment to himself to take a deep breath and to recap the situation.  
Harry's here. In his home. Showering. Naked.

Louis shakes his head to get the sudden flash of wetnakedhot out of his thoughts, to get his mind out of the gutter and he decides to look through his fridge for something edible. He's starving, and if Harry didn't change completely, the boy is probably hungry as well. When Harry comes out of the shower, Louis has prepared dinner, just some simple pasta with pesto, but Harry looks like it's the best thing ever.

Louis can't help but stare at him a bit as he lets himself sit next to him, so casually, on the couch, plate in his hand, as he starts to eat. Harry smells like him, a bit, with his clothes and his shampoo, and maybe Louis is a sick man for finding his smell on him slightly arousing.

"Your hair is still wet" he says, just to break the awkward silence.

"Yeah," Harry just says, "Too lazy to dry it completely" he twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, rather absentmindedly, before saying, "Whatever. Eleanor's gotten engaged, you know?"

"Sorry?"

"She's going to get married."

"Oh. I didn't know that." It seems pointless to ask 'To who?', pretending that he truly cares who it is. If she's getting married, she's found a guy who's a keeper. And that's all that matters. "How do you know?" He doubts Harry got invited.

"Robin told me," he then says slowly, "They've only dated for four months. But you know...Robin says sometimes you just feel...sure."

Sounds like Eleanor, being a romantic, believing in love at first sight. Put her together with a kindred soul, and getting married straightaway sounds like a good plan. Louis is glad she has found someone.

Makes the guilt easier to deal with. 

"That's good then."

Harry stops eating for a moment, and Louis can feel his brown eyes resting on him, like he is not sure he just heard right.

"You...you don't mind at all?"

He raises his eyebrow, turning towards Harry, "Not really."

Harry makes a snorting sound, one of amusement and disbelieve, and then he says, in the quietness of this stormy evening, or is it night already? Louis can't tell, to wrapped up in the things that keep happening.

"So that means...you and Eleanor don't keep in touch?"

Louis doesn't reply at first. And Harry ducks his head a little, probably knowing it's none of his business. "No. She – Well, she said she didn't want to hear from me ever again. Justified, probably. I'd been cheating on her for months, you see." The sarcasm couldn't be any heavier in Louis’ tone. Fuck, what a mess he made of it. "There's a lot about that time that I regret," Louis adds quietly. Needing Harry to know that.

Harry glances at him, his green eyes give nothing away, and god. He changed so much, Louis can barely breath. He can clearly remember these eyes looking at him with too much love and maybe too much trust, all of that he never deserved, and it's been hunting him, but now? there is nothing left of that.

"You know...I don't forgive you. I think you are a prick." Harry says. It seems like he needed him to know that, too.

"Alright." Louis holds his breath and waits for more. His head hurts.

Harry scoffs angrily, genuine hurt in his words. "I knew that you still loved her. I knew that, and don't think that I didn't. But I thought you fucking liked me enough to not – not leave me like you did. Like I wasn't worth your time, god – and the things you said - I know you were desperate but it just – it just didn't fucking justify."

"Alright."

"Stop fucking saying that! 'Alright', what the hell does that mean? Alright." He draws in a shaky breath, glaring at him, "I know that you were punishing me for the things you did. I know that." Harry leans back, still eating, as if they are chit- chatting about the weather. "I don't forgive you." Louis would say 'alright' to that too but he finds himself speechless. "But life," Harry sighs. "Life is too short for me to hate you. Trying to – to maintain that level of anger and betrayal is exhausting. Trust me, I tried. I don't want to be like that. I hated being like that. You're not worth the hate."

The silence that follows, Louis finds, is the deafening kind.

He doesn't know what to say. Harry looks exhausted next to him, in Louis’ over- sized clothes, his wet hair still dripping little droplets of water on his shoulders, but he doesn't seem to care about that.  
The storm rages on outside, and Louis thinks it's a wonder that they are still here, on his couch, together, after all that has happened. It's wonder they survived the war between their hearts. And Louis’ about to lick his fingers, and crack his bones, always ready for a fight. He's ready to throw some hurtful words back, maybe some lies, but then he suddenly lacks the will.

Hurting Harry has never given him anything, and it certainly never felt like success.

He lets out a loud sigh as he decides to let Harry win this time.

The next thing he says nearly gets swallowed by thunder, nearly gets lost between the sound of his own heart beat and the constant ringing in his head, but the words make their way out of his mouth, clear and unable to be unheard. "I'm sorry."

Harry's eyes widen a little, maybe surprised that he has the guts to say something at all, but then he catches himself quickly, and nods, "You should be." 

Louis says "I am." because, god. He is.

"It's...I think, it's the first time you said that, after we've meet again...I...if I only- " Harry swallows, and he adds, more quietly "If I only could believe you."

"I mean it." Louis says, maybe a bit more desperately than he intended to. Harry has to know that he means it, that he truly fucking regrets it. Because Eleanor is not here anymore, and the love he thought he knew, was never really there at all, there was never anything left of it. And now? He's got nothing. Harry got everything.

He realizes that Harry just stayed here because he needed to tell him these things, that maybe they've been hunting him as well, the words he has to get off his heart, needed to let him know. And Louis knows how that feels but still, he thought...hoped...that maybe Harry stayed here now because of he got the same feelings as he does. 

Because he still feels the steady warmth in his chest that heats up at the sight of Harry, making itself known more obviously every day. Like it was hibernating but has now awoken, and it's making a wreck of him in its wake.

And that in itself he could live with. That would still be fine.

What makes it unbearable, however, is not knowing whether or not the feeling in him is pure.  
If it's good.

Or if it's just misguided selfishness, determined that he can make a claim on him again, more so than ever, making him his. No other man, no Zayn, no Nick. Just him.  
Zayn had him before, maybe just for one night, and Nick has him now. Who had him in between? Who had him before Nick came along?

That knowledge sinks in, and he has to live with it: faceless men breathing in the scent of Harry's skin, hearing the telltale sounds he makes when he's about to come. Louis remembers his scent, his sounds, he remembers gripping his hips and pushing in deeper, thinking that the boy in front of him is his, only his, no one else's... What a lie. What intoxicating, beautiful lie.

But if Harry is open about it now, saying what he has to say, then he should be too right? and he feels desperate, feels like he's under the knife of an open-heart surgery and he doesn't-  
Doesn't know what Harry wants to hear him say.

"I really fucking miss you, alright? It just took me a while to realize it." Louis says, and Harry flinches, like he just has been hit, and maybe he did, maybe his words just have that effect on Harry. Maybe all he does is hurt him. "I want you to know that I'm truly sorry. I'm sorry, alright? I can't change anything but I'm sorry." This hasn't been easy for him either. He lost the girl he thought he loved, lost the guy he thought he didn't. He let himself be swallowed by his work, put his heart in it, because god knows, nobody else would want to have it. Not with how fucked up it had become.

"I'm just sorry." Louis sighs. He leans back into the soft cushions of his couch, closing his eyes. This is not what he thought would happen. This is a roller- coaster. This is chaos.  
As always, Harry just brings chaos to his thoughts.

"Alright." Harry says then, after a while of heavy silence, and Louis grins despite himself, cracking one eye open to glance at the boy at his side and he says, "Alright? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I believe you." Harry says then, and something in Louis’ heart opens up, radiates, he looks at him, stares at Harry, watches how his damp hair hangs in his face, how his chest lifts up and down with every breath, how his eyes look at him, warm, brown, gorgeous, and then his eyes flicker down to his lips. And he can't help it, can't help how his body leans in, wanting to be closer, reaching out for Harry, touching his shoulder, warm beneath his hand, and he leans in.

And fuck, fuck. Now, he wants it now.

He wants to kiss him, feel him close, at the core.

Harry's eyes widen, and he retreats, just a bit, maybe, unsure of what Louis is doing and Louis doesn't read it as a 'no', and he is getting closer, feeling Harry's breath. Harry doesn't need to be nervous, because god, he got it from now, he got him, just let him-

Before he can close the distance, the doorbell rings, shrill and loud, and Harry flinches, and he does as well. And he sees his chance fly out of the window, because Harry is standing up quickly, stretching a bit, still wide-eyed, and in disbelieve, as if he can't get it into his head that, yeah. Louis just wanted to kiss him.

"That's Zayn." Harry explains, voice shaky. "I texted him to tell him he should get me. I will bring back your clothes another time."

Louis stares at his hands, and nods, feeling frustrated. "Good night, Louis."

And then he leaves.


	16. DAMN YOU

The steady sound of the tattoo needle rings through the room, and Louis concentrates. Nick holds surprisingly still as Louis puts the last bit of shading over the already inked skin.

"It looks so sick," Nick says, clearly excited "You really got some skill, you know?"

"Thanks." he murmurs, adding a few darker parts, before he leans back again, looking at his work and deciding with a satisfied nod that's it's good the way it is. Sometimes he can't really stop himself from going over a tattoo and adding things until he has done too much, but now he knows that it's done.

"We're finished," he says, and Nick grins down at his arm, standing up when Louis motions for him to look at the full body mirror, "You know the procedure of taking care of it now, right?"

"Yeah, sure, thanks." Nick says, looking at his arm in the mirror, flexing a bit, a wide grin stretching across his face. Louis can understand it though. He really outdid himself there. It's wasted on Nick though, isn't it?

Whatever.

"No really, thanks." Nick says then, turning to him, and clapping him on his back. Like they are bro's or some shit. Louis wants him out of his shop immediately.

"Ah, hey, I nearly forgot." Nick mumbles, walking over where he dropped his ugly coat, fishing out a envelope out of the deep pockets, "This is for you." He lifts an eyebrow in question but takes the envelope anyway, "Robin's wedding invitation." Nick explains, and then shrugs a bit guiltily "Should have given this to you weeks ago, but yeah...it slipped my mind."

"Oh." he says, "When is it?"

"Next Friday," Nick smiles, "You should let Robin know you are coming, they are booking hotel rooms and all that."

Louis smiles a bit and nods, thanks him and bids him goodbye. He doesn't really feel like going to a wedding, not when his own heart is so heavy.  
Not when he nearly has given up on love. 

x x x

"Glad you could come!" Robin smiles at him, happy, of course, this is her wedding day after all.

After heavily debating with himself whether he should or should not come, and only after he called Robin to make sure Eleanor isn't going to be there, since he is still not so keen on seeing her again, he decided that a weekend at the beach, a little getaway will be good for him. He left Bepo alone in the shop, but he trusts him to be able to take care of it for two days.

"I wouldn't have invited you, If I knew Eleanor would come." Robin had said, and really, that stung a bit, but he completely understood. Robin may or may not be aware of the details of their break-up, but she knows enough to know that a meeting between them wouldn't be the best idea. It's only been a year and a half after all, and that might seem long, but really, even if Louis is over it all, he still doesn't feel comfortable with the idea of being in the same room with the girl he cheated on.

Anyways, he decided to say yes to the invite, packed his suitcase and checked into the courtesy room block, Robin had reserved for her guests. It was a nice hotel, quite fancy, near the beach, almost like a kingdom by the sea.

The walk down the aisle was quite emotional, and he could clearly see how the grey haired man, now Robins husband, shed a tear or two. Louis wouldn't call himself a huge fan of these things, not a big romantic, even though Eleanor tried to turn him into one, but even he could admit that it was really touching.

And now they finally arrived at the hotel again, ready for dinner and then a big celebration, including silly and embarrassing games and dancing. Just like weddings are. Louis can't say he's looking forward to it.

"Thanks for the invite." He smiles a bit, "You look stunning, Robin."

Because she does. Her long black hair has been put in curls and falls gently over her right shoulder, and the white, timeless and elegant wedding dress, fits her body perfectly. Robin truly does look like a bride.

"Thanks, Kendall spend hours on..well.. me."

"It's my creation!" Kendall pipes up from behind her, before eyeing him up and down, almost like she's deciding if he looks alright in a suit or not. "Louis tomlinson ! It's nice to see you again. You look good," she says with a nod of approval.

"Same could I say about you." He nods, and smiles politely, "I guess your tattoo healed up well, mh?" he observes, eyes gliding to her bare arm.

"I'm totally showing it off!" Kendall chuckles lightly, "Nick's ink is amazing too, he can't shut up about it, really-"

"Because it looks sick as fuck," a voice from behind him says, and Louis turns around only to be greeted by Nick. He already saw him at the reception, but it's still hard to hide a chuckle at the sight of the bulky man in a suit. Sure, the suit fits, but it just doesn't fit.

And then there is Harry. And just as Nick he has seen him already today, but it that doesn't mean his breath doesn't get stuck in his throat, doesn't mean his heart can just ignore Harry's presence.  
Harry doesn't really look at him though, kind of hanging on Nicks arm, but there is a smile on his lips, and he is more or less staring at Robin, which Louis can't really fault him for.

At least he seems to be in a good mood. That's something new. Maybe this whole wedding thing, made Harry forget his presence for a while.

"I can't wait we get this party started." Nick laughs now, and he's already drinking wine, red, like his tie, and Louis thinks, that yeah. He could do with a drink, too.

He has to survive Harry and Nick acting like they are the ones who've gotten married the whole night, so yes, alcohol is definitely needed.

"First, dinner." Robin reminds, and Harry perks up at that, big smile stretching across his face.

Sometimes he feels like even with all Harry has been through, he's still carrying sunshine around, like it's that easy and Louis wants to tell Harry to stop smiling, cause when he does, Louis can barely breath.

"This is why I love weddings!"

"You have never been to one before," Edward remarks, as he comes up behind Harry, his left hand being tightly held by Taylor. Louis thinks they look good together, with their color matching outfits, Taylor in a blue dress, Edward with a blue tie, and the way they smile. Wide, bright, and happy.

"Doesn't matter," Harry grins up at his brother, "I love weddings."

"You just love food." Edward says, ruffling through Harry's curly hair gently. Harry doesn't seem to mind, even leaning a bit into the touch, and Louis feels the bittersweet burn of nostalgia right in his stomach.

He used to do that. He used to be allowed to do that. And now what?

He pays his bills, and tattoos his boyfriend. And Harry falls asleep with someone else. Damn him.

He's only bitter about the last part, but that's not all he wants from Harry, not by far.

"Not true." Harry mutters, but he's still smiling. Seems like everybody is today. They are all smiling, happy for Robin and Franky and Louis just feels like throwing himself out of a window. Maybe taking Nick with him. The way he's now having his arm around Harry's waist makes him want to puke all over the place. It makes him want to tear Harry away from him, to his side, where he belongs. Where he should have been now.

It's ugly, the jealousy, but he can't just ignore it. Not when he feels it with every fiber of his being.

"I can't wait until you and Taylor get married. We'll have a big party, with lots of food," Harry laughs, "It's going to be amazing."

Louis can see how Taylor is blushing, she's ducking her head, so her blonde hair falls into her face a bit, as if she wants to hide and she just mumbles an embarrassed, "Harry..."  
Edward looks flustered as well, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly "Harry...you know Taylor and I, haven't talked about that..."

"Well, but you are going to marry right?" Harry asks, and Louis can't help but grin. Robin chuckles behind her hand, and Kendall looks curious, as if she is waiting for an answer as well.

"Ah, well, I-" Edward stutters, like he is not sure what to say.

"C'mon, H," Nick interrupts, obviously realizing the awkward tension, "Let's sit down, the food will be served soon." Harry seems to be happy with that, letting Nick stir him away to their table and Taylor and Edward both let out a relived sigh.

He sits with Kendall, Edward, Taylor, Nick, Harry and Zayn around one big round table, Kendall at his right side, and Taylor at his left. The conversation is flowing, although he is not particularly contributing to it. He is only half listening, looking around, taking in the way the table is decorated, colors of purple and white dominate the room.

He scratches his arm a bit, feeling uncomfortable. It's not like he belongs in this circle of friends. But he's glad he is sitting here, rather than with people he doesn't even know at all.  
When the supper is served, Harry looks ready to dig in, but Nick stops his arm halfway, hissing a quiet "Wait," and Harry glares at Nick but lets his spoon sink slowly, disappointment clearly visible in the way his mouth turns into a pout.

The 'cling' of a glass being tapped with a fork rings through the room, and Robin and Franky stand up from the end of a big table. Their parents and family sitting by their side, looking up at them with shiny eyes, and a smile on their lips, like they are proud of them.

Robin and Simon say thank you for all gifts, and they keep their little speech short, telling them to 'dig in' at the end of it.

Louis claps along with the others, before the room quiets down again, and the sound of clanking tableware and joyful conversation fills the air. Louis can't help but watch Nick and Harry from across the table. They way they talk to each other, casual, comfortable. Together for more than a year. That's what they look like. And maybe they represent what Louis could have had. The thought of that flashes through his mind before he can stop it, and his fingers clench around the spoon.

Nick orders another glass of wine when the waiter comes along and asks Harry if he wants something, who just shakes his head, pointing to his glass of coke. He can't hear what they are talking about, not really, their voices drowned in the chatting of the ladies at his side. He would ask them to be quiet just so he can hear what Harry and Nick have to say to each other, if it weren't such a rude thing to do.

He sighs, and thanks the waiter as he refills his wine as well.

Dinner is over soon, and it's dark outside, when Robin and Simon walk to the dance-floor hand in hand, dancing their first dance as newly-weds. After their first dance, the music picks up, and soon enough other couples are dancing too. Louis’ sitting with Nick at the bar, just watching them. There is Harry and Edward, who are not dancing seriously by any means, and more like spinning each other around and cracking up. Taylor is dancing with Zayn, who takes tentative steps, obviously not that used to dancing at all, but he manages. He sees Luke too, dancing with a delicate looking blond woman. He seems to be better at dancing than at ice-skating, although his steps are far from elegant too.

There are only a few people who are not dancing. Kendall is one of them, sitting at the table, watching the others too, nipping at a glass of wine. She catches him looking at her and smiles at him. She is stunning, Louis can clearly see that. He wouldn't mind dancing with her, just to distract himself from how utterly miserable he feels.

He sighs, and makes his way over to her, letting Nick pour shot after shot without him.

"Care for a dance?" he asks politely when he stops at her table, holding his hand out, and Kendall takes it, still smiling that mysterious smile of hers.

They dance a quick and fast-paced discofox, and it's actually fun. Kendall is a good dancer, letting him take the lead easily, her long hair swinging with the movement of the dance, and her dress lifting up a little when he spins her around, a smile on her lips.

But he is not looking as much at Kendall as he is glancing over her shoulder at Harry, who's still dancing with his brother. He seems to have fun, carelessly laughing with Edward, bumping into people left and right.

"I'm not the one you want to dance with, huh?" Kendall asks, suddenly, when the music slows down, and they change into a slow-paced waltz.

"Sorry," he says, promptly taking his eyes back to hers. He knows it's rude and he doesn't deny that he was looking at someone else, and not paying attention to her. Even when Kendall is beautiful, he can't take his eyes off of Harry.

She chuckles a bit, and doesn't seem all that bothered, though she looks more than curious now. "You want to tell me a story, Louis?" she asks, and there is a teasing tone in her voice.  
Louis lifts an eyebrow, and she nods towards the balcony outside, grinning like a cheshire-cat.

"There is not much to say," he mumbles, but follows her outside anyway. The wind is cold, and Kendall shivers a bit, but declines his offer to take his jacket.  
He leans against the railing, fishing out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket. Kendall just watches him, as he breathes in a lung full of nicotine.

"So," she says after a moment, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Who's she? It's not Robin who caught your interest, is it?"  
Louis frowns.

She adds, "Because I've been trying to figure out who is making you so miserable." Ah, so there it is. His misery must be plain to see, and he's not as good as hiding his feelings as he thought he was.

"But you were not looking at Robin. So who is it?"

"Guess you'll never know," Louis says, wondering how well she realizes that he was using her to distract himself. She knows, though. That he danced with her because there is someone who he can't dance with.

"Are you gay?" she asks suddenly, and Louis whips his head back to look at her.

"No." He answers, automatically, before he shakes his head and corrects himself. "Not fully straight, I suppose."

"Not fully straight," she repeats thoughtfully, no accusation in her tone. "See, that broadens the possibilities for me in this guessing game, so..." She laughs. "So as silly as it is, I think I'll hazard a guess: Harry. Although why you- why you'd be in love with that little oddball is beyond me. Not that he isn't loveable, or that I know you very well, he's just...just not what I would have expected to be your type. "

She stares at him expectantly. Louis feel nauseous.

It's beyond him too these days. He could write essays on why him and not anyone else, why it was him specifically, but right now he couldn't say. He must be an idiot running after someone, who so clearly feels nothing back but he can't bring himself to admit it. He keeps telling himself that Harry still feels something. Harry used to love him. Louis could feel it in the way they moved, in the way he kissed him. It was stupid of him to think Harry's feelings for him were merely a crush.

And now...he's paying for his education, running after him, making an ass out of himself and...it all counts for something but adds up to nothing. Nothing at all.

"How do you know?" he asks.

"Because you two keep looking at each other when the other one isn't looking."

"Does he really?" Louis asks quietly, and she nods. She might be saying it out of pity, his pathetic longing obvious to her. She knows Harry's seeing someone else, and here Louis is, behaving like a wounded animal.

"You were asking Luke all these questions about him. He told me. Were you two...?" She makes a vague hand gesture, and Louis nods. "So it's an old thing."

"Ancient. Feels like it's been going on my entire life. Cheated on my girlfriend with him, and after she found out I left him. Doesn't matter, though. History. It doesn't matter what you've – seen or felt or been through together if you decide that it doesn't matter. If I decided that it didn't matter, before he could even get the chance to."

Louis stubs his cigarette out against the railing, leaving black ash on the metal. Instead of giving Kendall some long and elaborate blow-by-blow account, he only gives her the end result because that's what sums it all up, shows what a load of nothing he has achieved. "He's with Nick now."

"Blah, that Nick character," she says with disdain, and Louis lifts a surprised eyebrow, before she says, "I can't stand him."

Louis grins. "Trust me, I just want to punch him in the fucking face."

She laughs, and Louis can't help but laugh too. It feels good to talk to someone about this. Ashton knows he's a mess, but nothing he's doing is exactly helpful. He doesn't get how deep it runs. Whereas Kendall, well – she's on the outside. She hopefully knows to keep her mouth shut, though.

"I'm sure Harry doesn't think that you two don't matter," Kendall says sympathetically.

"He said I mean nothing to him anymore."

"Well, he – he probably... that... I mean. If you left him heartbroken..." Yeah. Exactly.

"Kendall?" a male voice says, and Louis closes his eyes for a moment, because he knows that voice. God does he know it. He looks back at Harry standing on the balcony, holding the door open, "Kylie asked you to come prepare the games."

"Oh," Kendall says, "Thanks Harry." And with that she leaves them alone.

Harry stares at him a bit, as if contemplating if he should go too, or stay with him here.

Louis sighs, and turns his back to Harry, leaning his elbows against the railing to watch the ocean in front of him. The moonlight is reflecting in the water, and the glistening city lights of the nearby islands shine in the distant.

And then he sees Harry at his side, leaning against the railing as well, miming his posture. He's not saying anything, and Louis lights a second cigarette. "Where did you leave your boyfriend?"

"He's getting shitfaced at the bar," Harry snorts rather angrily, shrugging. "I told him to slow it down, but he's not listening," he shakes his head, frowning, "Not like he ever listens to me."  
Louis nearly chuckles. Did the lovebirds have a fight?

And Harry doesn't seem to be missing his boyfriend much. Staring off into the night with him instead. Harry doesn't say anything more, and Louis’ left wondering what his motives are. Is it pity? A random act of kindness, letting him enjoy his exclusive company for a little while? He must have noticed him staring cause he says, "What?" 

"Just wondering what you want."

"Nothing," he says, sounding mildly irritated.

He'll spit it out after a while. Louis just needs patience. That's what he keeps telling himself: He has to be patient with him. Finally, Harry takes in a deep, uneven breath. "Are you interested in her?" 

Harry looks at him evenly, but he seems tense. "Kendall."

Louis focuses his gaze on the ocean. Never half and half. Never eye to eye.

"Why?"

"She's single." He shrugs, "She's pretty." Louis snorts. As if that's the reason. Harry's not admitting that he's jealous, but maybe that it bothers him. That it might bother him.

"I'm not interested in her," he says quietly and honestly. "And even if I were, it wouldn't mean anything to you, would it?" Harry stays silent, and Louis takes another deep drag. "I told her about us."  
He glances to his side only to see Harry frowning, and he sighs again, "Are you angry?"

Harry laughs bitterly. "What do you think?" Right. He wanted to keep this secret, wanted to take it into his grave, pretend that it never happened. Nobody has to know. Just like he never told anybody. Just like he kept Harry a secret. The irony of that is not lost on him.

"Kendall's not gonna tell Nick, though," he then says, but doesn't get why it matters to Harry.

"I know that, but that doesn't make it okay." Harry scratches his nose quickly. "I mean, I guess I get it. If you wanted somebody to talk to." He chuckles a bit, "You're lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Yeah. To have at least some people you can be honest with."

So he hasn't told a single soul besides Zayn, he really didn't. All those stolen afternoons and lies and secret meetings, and he's kept it all to himself. It occurs to Louis that Harry wishes he had been able to talk to someone. Well, who? Above all, what would he have said to those people? A yearning fills Louis, a deep-seeded desire to know what those words would have been.

"What about your brother?" Louis asks, and Harry snorts promptly, as if he's making a joke, "He would have told Taylor. And she works for you, and she likes you. Likes her job, likes working with you. I don't want to take that away from her."

So selfless.

"You can talk to me," Louis offers. "About us?" Harry laughs disbelievingly.

Now there's a word Louis loves: Us. The way it slips into the conversation and how Harry doesn't correct himself.

Not dead yet. Not dead.

"I don't think so." Harry says. It's not such a crazy idea, for him to talk to him about them. He represents half of the topic, anyway. Harry fidgets slightly before saying, "I'm sorry. That I said you mean nothing. I know that it pissed you off. This was just...lately I just had one bad winter after the other."

"Me too," he mumbles, and thinks that maybe he has been saving all his summers for Harry. Maybe he did. Maybe the seasons are to blame.

"I didn't mean it." Harry says.

He stares at him, speechless. He can feel his heart jump to his throat. And he rushes the next words out, because he's gotta take this chance before it's gone again. "You know I didn't mean it either, back then. You must know how much I- "

"Louis, don't-"

He doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to know.

Harry remains still as clouds shift over the crescent moon, enveloping him in darker shades. Something in his stance, the way he hangs his head, looks vulnerable. Like Louis sees a side of him, a core that he's been fighting to see for months now.

"Harry-"

"I should go now." Harry pushes away from the railing quickly, his voice wavers. "I have a feeling that I should go." He smiles at him, uncertainly, backing away. Louis doesn't follow.  
Harry smiles a bit more then, "You look really handsome in a suit, by the way." And then he turns around, leaving him alone again.

x x x

Louis brushes his teeth tiredly, loosens the tie around his neck tiredly, and takes his watch off tiredly. This was one hell of a night, and he's exhausted, and can't wait to get into bed. Things never seem to his way though, and he curses silently when someone knocks at his door.

He tries to ignore it, but then it comes again, quickly this time, more urgent. "Louis!" comes a voice through his door, and he halts in his movement, "Louis!  
Please! Open up!"

It's Harry.

"What the..." he mumbles to himself, quickly walking to the door, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, as he opens it, only to find Harry behind it. The boy looks desperate, exhausted, and before Louis can even ask what the fuck is going on, Harry has already taking his sleeve into his hand, pulling Louis behind himself.

"It's Nick, he passed out on the floor, and his breathing is really shallow, and I just-" he sounds desperate, quickly rushing out the words, as they rush through the halls. Louis’ trying to comprehend what's happening. What. What. What? "I'm worried, I don't know if that's normal and if he just needs to sleep it off, but- " he swallows hard, and Louis forces his tired mind to catch up with his words, "I would rather not take any risks."

He sounds worried, and Louis just nods. Taking in the sight of Eustass Nick sprawled on the floor when they finally reach their room.  
"Fuck," he curses. Nick's pale, skin even more ghostly white than usual, having an almost bluish tint, and Louis swallows hard and falls to his knees next to him, picking up the red-haired man's wrist, cold and clammy, to check his pulse and then he leans down to listen to him breath. He counts. A minute passes by. Harry's staring at him when he spits out a "7. Shit."

And that's bad. That's really bad.

"Call 911." He says, calmly, and Harry stares at him for a bit, only kicking back into action, when Louis repeats his request, "Harry, call 911."

He rolls Nick's heavy body into recovery position, glancing at Harry who's fiddling with his phone. He takes Nick's tie off which hopefully makes it easier for him to breath. Then he gets a blanket from the bed to keep him warm. He sighs "You shitty idiot," and "fucking stupid." before he decides to count his breath again.  
Things really never go his way.

x x x

The minutes keep on stretching, ten minutes, twenty minutes. And no one says anything. Harry shivers slightly, and Zayn squeezes his shoulder affectionately, but Harry nods, a clear 'I've got it, I've got it, thank you', and Zayn pulls his hand back. Harry rubs his face, but the blank look in his eyes is the worst part. Louis wishes he'd cry. He'd look more human if he did. Louis would feel less worried about him if he did.

Harry flinches, however, when a doctor finally comes in, glasses on his nose, a tinge of grey in his hair. Harry shoots to standing immediately while the rest of them rouse.  
"Evening, I'm–"

"Well?" Harry says, cutting him off.

The doctor seems put off and clears his throat slightly. "I've been attending to your friend, who remains unconscious yet stable for now." There is something to him that is clinical, like he lacks sympathy for the patient. He's more deprecating than anything else. Louis can't stand doctors like this. "He was in critical condition when he arrived. We're still waiting for the full blood results. Alcohol intoxicating caused him to nearly go into respiratory failure, so he would have stopped breathing." As he says this, something in Harry's eyes dies. "He has now been stabilized, and we've done everything we –"

"Be more specific," Harry cuts in, tone angry.

The man looks disgruntled. "We're keeping him unconscious, letting his body get some rest and recover. When he wakes up tomorrow, we will know more of his condition."

"Can we see him?" Zayn asks.

The Doctor looks hesitating. "I recommend that you go home and come back tomorrow. There's nothing you can do for him now."

"But if we want to see him," Zayn persists.

The doctor purses his lips. "I'll have a nurse come for you shortly." 

"Thank you." With a short nod, the doctor leaves.

Louis lets out a relieved sigh. This could have been worse. He knows brain damage is not far off, if Nick really had stopped breathing. "I need some air." Harry says suddenly, voice tight, before leaving, the door slamming behind him.

Zayn looks at the closed door, letting out a heavy sigh, "I'll go check if he's alright."

"I'll do it," Louis says, now standing up. Zayn frowns slightly. He hovers around Harry enough as it is. "I'm a doctor. I've seen this before."

This seems to convince Zayn, and it's not like he's lying. Zayn nods like that's fine by him, and he moves to sit back down.

When Louis steps out into the long hospital corridor, he makes sure to close the door behind him. Give the others some privacy. The hospital is relatively quiet this late at night: a few nurses here and there. The last time he was in one of these death traps, he was working his ass off as well.

Finding Harry doesn't turn out to be as easy as he thought. He goes around the floor twice without seeing him and figures that he must have really gone outside. But when he opens the door to the stairs, intending to go downstairs, he finds him sitting on the lowest step of the stairs leading up, head between his hands.

He just needed somewhere to hide.

Louis lets the door close after him. Harry doesn't react to the sound. "Hey."

He looks up and then instantly looks away, flinching at the sight of him. "Leave me alone," Harry says, but it's too late – Louis saw his reddened eyes. Harry quickly wipes his cheeks, takes in an uneven breath.

Louis stands still idly, stupidly, awkwardly. He didn't expect this.

Fuck, he'll take anything but his tears. That's the one thing he's never been able to stand: if he cries. It's a damn rare sight, and he recalls the time he broke up with him and Harry cried, eyes puffy and red. And he knows Harry is strong. Harry doesn't cry for nothing.

"Hey," Louis repeats softly, his insides aching. "Just fuck off, Louis."

But he doesn't move. Harry's not angry with him, and Louis tries to repeat that – well, okay, he is angry with him in general, but not right now. This is about something else. "He's gonna be okay, you know." His tone is soothing, or tries to be.

"Yeah, sure," Harry laughs bitterly. "Sure it'll be okay... It'll be alright, I promise you. Things will work out..But you don't know that!" he now barks at him, standing up quickly, and Louis steps back and gives him space. Harry can't stay still, his hands curling into fists. He shakes his head, almost feverish with everything that he's bottled up inside. "This – This doesn't concern you, so just go! God, this has got nothing to do with you!"

"Hey, listen," Louis says, making the mistake of reaching out and touching Harry's arm gently. He instantly pulls back as if he's been burned. Harry lifts his hands in clear rejection. "Don't fucking touch me, alright?" Louis tries not to take it personally, although he finds that's nearly impossible.

There are a few things Louis knows well in this world, and Harry is one of them. Or used to be. In some way still is.

This isn't about Louis at all. This is all him. "You think it's your fault, don't you?"

He doesn't deny it, just laughs bitterly. "Well, isn't it?" 

"No."

It's not his fault. It's as simple as that.

"But it is. It is my fault, and if you hadn't been there then he would have-" He shakes his head disbelievingly. "I knew he was drinking himself stupid there, I knew it, and I let him, and we fought and...I said terrible things, I- I told him that maybe we should-" he stops himself. And Louis wants to know. Maybe? Maybe what? Maybe they should fucking what? "I should have done something." Beneath the anger, he sounds guilty beyond words, with every sentence beating himself up over this. "I should have fucking done something."

"Nick is his own person who makes his own fucking decisions," Louis says firmly, shaking his head.

But Harry seems to disagree. He quickly wipes his cheeks again. "What the hell do you know? don't stand there and pretend you know what's going on. You don't know Nick, so you don't fucking –"

"No, you listen to me for a change! Listen!" Louis demands until Harry looks at him. God, he looks lost, like his eyes are searching for something, for land that he just can't see. "Nick did this to himself, alright? Don't let yourself think otherwise for a second. He fucked up, he drank too much! You didn't force him. You might not want to hear it, but he put himself in that hospital bed!" Louis exclaims and points towards the door.

Harry's eyes have narrowed dangerously. "How dare you –" 

"It's the truth."

"Fuck you."

"My point is that – That it doesn't matter, your what-ifs." Louis stops to draw in a breath. Harry clearly feels insulted for Nick, highly indignant. It's a front. Louis knows it is. "But Harry..." he says quietly. "God, Harry, this is not your fault."

Harry looks away at the wall, but Louis sees the way his lips twitch downwards, the way the muscles of his throat tighten. There's a short silence before he lets out a strangled sound and looks down at his feet.

"Hey," Louis rushes out, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm again, forcing him to turn around. "Hey, just –"

"Don't touch me!"

"Okay. Okay." He lifts his hands in surrender.

"Just leave. Please." Tears are now beginning to roll down Harry's cheeks, and he doesn't want Louis here for this. "Damn you, Louis!" he snaps when he doesn't move. Can't.

"It wasn't your fault." And, more slowly this time, he places a hand on his arm. "You know it wasn't. God, just come here." Harry doesn't put up a fight when Louis pulls him to his arms this time. He shivers, air against his neck, and Louis keeps a gentle arm around his shoulders, the other in his hair. Firm but not intrusive. And Harry's rigid for a few seconds but then he gives into it. Presses forward. Wraps his arms around his middle, too tired to fight it. As the embrace tightens, his exhaustion is palpable. His wet eyelashes brush the side of Louis’ neck, and he shushes him the best he can. He breathes him in and just tries and be something solid for him because it's what he needs. "It'll be okay, you'll see. I promise you. He'll be fine, and you guys will be fine, and soon this i will be forgotten."

Louis keeps talking. Just keeps talking until he can feel Harry calm down.

He tries to remember his place, but it's hard with his hand in Harry's hair, carding softly, tracing patterns at the bottom of his skull, his fingers moving in soothing, soothing circles. "I got so fucking scared," Harry manages, voice choked.

"I know you're scared as hell right now, but he'll make it. I promise you. And I'm here if you need me. Okay?"

"I don't need-"

"I know you don't," Louis whispers, "but I'm offering. Don't take it if you don't want to." And he most likely doesn't want to.

His breathing seems to even out fully after a while. Louis expects Harry to shove him backwards at any second, walk out on him, swear at him, and he'll let him – a part of his heart is breaking right now. He would let him. He would grant him that luxury. But then Harry laughs slightly, not at all what Louis expected. Harry's nose presses against his earlobe. "Your hair smells like a girl's."

Louis can't help but laugh, an exhausted laugh after a nightmare. "It's that fucking hotel shampoo."

Harry shrugs like that's not his fault, and he himself smells different so Louis guesses he hasn't used it himself.

"What do you know about what women smell like, anyway?" Louis counters.

"I've got a vivid imagination."

Harry's nose slides down and now presses against his jaw. Louis pulls back slightly, suddenly feeling confused by how close he is. In his arms. He was upset – isn't anymore because he's calmed down and Louis knows he served his purpose–it was instinct. He wanted to make him feel better no matter at what cost. Now that moment's passed, and Harry's body pressed to his stirs up a conflicting mess of emotions.

Louis doesn't know if this hits Harry at the same time, but he blinks at him like he's slightly taken aback, and when he steps away, Louis lets him. He hides his face and wipes his eyes once more. He looks small just then.

"You take the time you need out here, spend the night at the hospital if you want to. I don't think Nick would want to be alone." Harry nods and tiredly sits back down on the step. He clearly needs a few more minutes to pull himself together fully.

"Can you not tell the others?" Harry asks when Louis’ at the door. He needs them to think he's strong. Louis gets it.

"Of course I won't."

He'll keep a secret. Just another secret adding to the list.

Harry nods and tries to smile the little he can, because smiling, it's just what Harry does.


	17. NO COMFORT

The gloom from last night hasn't lifted when he joins Kendall, Edward and Taylor at the breakfast table. They look exhausted, and Louis thinks he probably doesn't look much better. Just as tired from last night.

"Any news?" he asks as he helps himself to cereal.

"He woke up this morning. Harry's coming back soon, Zayn's getting him." Louis pours milk into his bowl silently. The mood is pressing. Sad. It's a nice day outside, sun shining, and honestly, Nick might not have seen it. Many mornings he wouldn't have seen.

"We hope he comes out of the hospital today, so we can drive home." Kendall says now, "We all came together and some of us can't stay another day."  
Louis knows she's not blaming Nick, just stating facts.

"Robin and Franky are taking off today too. Going on their honeymoon." Edward adds, "Well, we've just gotta wait and see."

Louis doesn't add anything, eating his cereal silently, before excusing himself from the table, deciding that, while he waits for Harry to come back, he might as well look around, take a walk. The sun is shining, and Louis can't remember the last time he took his time to enjoy it.

Technically he could drive home. He came alone, and he is not bound to anyone here, so he could drive now. He had planned to drive home after breakfast, but well. Things have changed.  
He gets his coat from his room, throws it over, before he makes his way downstairs. He's barely out of the elevator when he stops. He doesn't move, just listens. Because it's Harry's voice, and he sounds exhausted, but then there's a second voice: Zayn. Telling Harry to get some rest.

"Yeah, I will," Harry promises.

He slowly approaches the hallway. He hovers around the corner, doesn't want to step into their line of vision. But then he takes one step more, just enough to see into the hallway. He sees Harry pulling Zayn into a hug, and then the two stand there with their winter coats on, in a tight embrace. It's not a brief goodbye or thank you hug. They whisper words that Louis cannot hear. Support and encouragement in a time of need. That's what it is. That's all. Sure. Zayn eventually pulls back, hand on the back of Harry's head. "Okay?" he asks, and Harry nods, and Zayn smiles, and Louis steps back before they see him staring at them.

Zayn leaves then, walking towards the breakfast hall, and Harry stands there, just stands there for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. Louis wants to step away quickly, for a second he considers – he doesn't know, hiding, maybe? Hiding, yeah, okay – but then Harry's walked around the corner further, and then he sees him. He startles, before letting out a "Oh, Louis," as if surprised, and then a, "Hey."

"Hey," he echoes, "How's Nick?"

Harry looks tired, like he's not ready to talk to him at all, but he answers anyway, "He's himself. He's okay so far. He's sleeping it off, and the doctor said he wants to keep him another night, just to be sure."

"That's good. Fuck. That's great news." Louis sighs, relieved. Just because he can't stand the bastard doesn't mean he wants the man dead.  
Harry nods, and his voice is hesitant when he asks, "Are you driving home now?"

"I wanted to take a walk." Louis shrugs, "You want to come with me?"

"I-..." he shakes his head, but then says, "Yeah, okay. Some fresh air might be good."  
They walk silently, side by side, Harry falling into step with him. He can feel

Harry staring at him, but he doesn't know what he's thinking or feeling. He has no damn clue.

"Uh, about last night," Harry says at last. "At the hospital." Ah. So that's his deal. Last night. He's either embarrassed or angry that he witnessed his breakdown – that's how he works, Louis knows all that: he'll get pissed off that Louis used his weakness against him or something of the sort. Louis doesn't want to deal with his problems with it.

"Hey, don't mention it." Louis says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat. "You were upset, I just happened to be there. I could've been anyone."

"Yeah. Right. Exactly." Harry sounds relieved by this. "You could've been anyone." Louis doesn't know if he really buys that, however. In his head, it only could have been him. Only. No one else. He doesn't add anything to that, so he just walks. The air is still cold, but the first rays of sunlight feel good on his skin. If things were different, if they still were how they were over two years ago, he would have taken Harry's hand in his own. But things aren't the same.

"I have a favor to ask you." Harry says, and he isn't looking at him. Anywhere else but at him.

"Alright?" Louis answers lightly, "What is it?"

"Would you stay here another night and take Nick and me home tomorrow?" Harry rushes out, as if he wants to have this conversation over and done with. "We all came together with Zayn and Edward, but both of them need to be home tonight, and some of the others can't stay either. But the doctor wants Nick to stay, and I...I wouldn't have asked you if I had any other choice."

Of course he wouldn't. And of course he needed to tell Louis that he's the last resort. Making sure Louis can't fool himself in thinking otherwise. Honestly, the healthiest thing for him would be to drive home and away from Harry and Nick. But he can't just say no to Harry, not when he is like this.

"Of course." he says, of course, of course, anything.

"Good, thanks," Harry sounds relieved, "I'll check out the hotel room then, and then carry my shit to yours, kay?"

What?

Louis blinks confused, "What?" Why would he...?

Harry shrugs, his warm brown eyes flickering up to his own hesitatingly, "Well. I thought it would be stupid to pay for two rooms, when one is enough."

Of course. Money. That's the problem here.

"Are you going to spend the night at the hospital?"

Harry shakes his head, and he is back to not looking at him. Louis fights the urge to grab his face and make Harry look him in the eyes when he's talking to him. "The hospital doesn't really tolerate that."

Louis just nods, his heart on a suicide mission, beating hard inside his chest, on the prospect of sharing a room with Harry.

Shit.

He gets out a cigarette, just to calm his nerves, and Harry still walks at his side, like he just didn't say that he will spend the night with him. In his bed. Maybe. Probably. Where else?  
Harry's green eyes focus on the cigarette, "You know, you always smoke when you are nervous."

"No, I always smoke," Louis corrects him, and for a moment he thinks about putting the cigarette out, cause he knows Harry doesn't like the smell, but then he shrugs and keeps smoking. Only to show him that he's not smoking nervously but languidly.

"Are you visiting Nick again today?" Louis asks conversationally with enough boredom to indicate that their dead conversation is the only thing pushing him to ask about something as dull as Harry's boyfriend. Harry's expression darkens. "Aw," Louis says. "Don't tell me you had a fight."

Louis wishes for them to had one hell of a row when Nick woke up. He can only gain from their strained relations.

"It was nothing." Harry says, shrugging it off. Sure, it was nothing. Nothing is enough to make Harry stay away from Nick. His boyfriend. Who's at the hospital.  
Sure. Nothing.

And now he wants to spend the night in his hotel room. Who is he kidding?

x x x

They bid farewell to the others after their walk, and he decides to ignore it when Zayn pulls Harry into a tight hug, and mouths something that looks like 'sorry' into his ear. Edward doesn't look as apologetic, probably because he isn't aware with whom exactly he is leaving his little brother alone with. Zayn knows though, and the warning glare he receives from the black haired man didn't go unnoticed, and certainly wasn't unexpected.

They drive off and Harry waves, before turning around to look at him. Louis can't read him at all, and he swallows hard because he still hasn't figured out what exactly is going on. Or is it just him? Is he the only one who finds this whole situation a bit strange? Is it him that reads too much into it?

Is he seeing the things he wants to see?

But Kendall said some things, things that he keeps repeating in his mind, mulling them over, trying to find a meaning in them. She said Harry looks at him. Watches him. But what does that mean? What is that supposed to mean, next to Harry being with Nick. Compared to that, it means nothing. Louis is sick and tired of trying to read something into every single one of Harry's actions. He will go insane, he swears, he will go insane.

One good thing had that whole Nick-incident though, Louis thinks, when he walks into Harry's and Nick's shared hotel room and sees the freshly made bed. They didn't get the chance to break it in. Though Louis is not sure if they would have had sex, maybe not here, surely not when they're surrounded by other people, thin walls, and Harry isn't quiet during sex, and the hotel beds are squeaky, so no, they wouldn't or couldn't have either way, but even then, that bed is not wide, and they were bound to end up pressed together and that's enough reason for Louis to glare at the bed slightly, before he realizes that he's glaring at a bed.

A bed that they haven't even slept in together. Thank god.

But really? Who is he kidding? They live together, they share an apartment together. They wake up every morning together and there is nothing Louis can do against that. He swallows the burn in his stomach at the thought of that, and helps Harry bring his suitcases over to his room.

He sits down on the bed when they are finished, not knowing what else to do, feeling uncomfortable, and out of desperation he turns the TV on. Some old James Bond movie is on and Harry excuses himself, fiddling with his phone, before disappearing into the bathroom, probably making a call that Louis is not meant to overhear.

Probably with Nick. Shit.

He will call him then, tell him how sorry he is about whatever they are fighting about, of course yes, he's sorry. And then Nick will say it's alright, that both of them made mistakes. Harry will then tell him that they will coming to get him tomorrow morning and that he can't wait to see him again. Nick will say that he misses him, so fucking much, miss you, miss you, miss you. And Harry will smile and tell him the same, and maybe add an I love you, love you, love you, because that's just how he feels.

I love you, love you, love you.

"Fuck," he groans, frustrated with it all, letting himself fall backwards, his back hitting the mattress with a quiet thud He puts his hand over his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh as Sean Connery seduces yet another woman on the TV screen.

"I have seen this one before." Harry says suddenly, and Louis blinks surprised. Not having realized that he is back already. That was a short call for overly romantic love confessions. He sits up to watch Harry put his phone away, and getting a towel and some change clothes from his suitcase. "I'm gonna shower."

Louis just nods, because what else is he gonna do? Sure. He knows some things he would like to do with Harry in the shower, but that doesn't mean he should. Or could, really. He doesn't doubt Harry is able to kick his ass if he wants to.

He watches the James Bond movie, trying to push the images of a naked Harry out of his brain, trying to concentrate on the film on TV. It doesn't really work, a part of him always thinking about Harry.  
He tries to distract himself, calling Ashton. Maybe he knows what to do.

"Well, that must complicate things a bit, am I right?" Ashton says, after he has told him what happened. What's going on. Who's sleeping in his bed tonight. "But with Nick out of the way..."  
Ashton wants him to say it. That he is thinking about it. Louis keeps silent.

"Aw, come on. I give you all the details," Louis can practically hear the pout in his voice. "I mean, all of them, from that girl who was into the crazy shit, to that one threesome I once had and man, I'm not gay, but Harry. God, Harry" He lets out a low whistle, which Louis supposes indicates approval. "That mouth of his, and my god, that ass and those hips, I wouldn't mind slipping one in myself, let me tell –"

"Ashton. Be careful with what you say next."

Ashton laughs good-naturedly, not taking him seriously. "Why? Come on, Louis! I bet he can be so attentive in bed, he seems the type. Bet he's a good boy."

He is, Ashton's spot on, but that doesn't stop Louis from gripping his phone tightly, "Shut the fuck up, asshole, I swear if you-"

"Hey, hey, calm down." Ashton's voice is soothing, but also slightly surprised by Louis’ tone.

All of his muscles are tense, and it's not just anger that bubbles within him, but frustration. Who else thinks about Harry like this?

"I'm sorry, man. I didn't. I didn't get that it... I mean, I didn't mean to be disrespectful or –"

"It's just. It's not a conversation topic."

"Yeah. Got it." Ashton sounds like he wants to hang up immediately, and Louis pinches his nose bridge in frustration. He shouldn't have snapped at Ashton the way he did.

"Think whatever you want," he amends uneasily, "but don't say it to my face. He's a person, and not just-"

"Sure." Ashton mumbles, interrupting him "Alright, sorry. You know I'm not even-"

"Interested in men, I know" Louis ends his sentence, though he isn't so sure if he buys that anymore. "Look, don't worry about it. It's nothing. I'm sorry I snapped at you." He takes a deep breath,"We alright?"

Ashton laughs and says, "Top notch, Louis. Top notch."

x x x

"Let's get something to eat." Harry had said when he came out of the shower, "I'm starving."

Louis had nodded, and soon they found themselves at the restaurant of the hotel. It's nice, but shit, it feels all too surreal.  
Because this feels like a fucking date. And that doesn't make any sense.

He swirls the wine in his glass, watches how the candle between them flickers. Harry is eating quickly, of course, he hadn't had a real meal since...yeah? Since when? Since yesterday?  
He probably ate something at the hospital. Nick sharing his shitty hospital food with him. Real romantic.

"Did you tell Nick that we'll get him tomorrow morning?" Louis asks.

"Yeah." Harry answers, and there is still food in his mouth. Louis smiles a bit because he guesses that's a thing Harry will never learn. "He says thanks for...you know...probably saving his life and shit."

"I'm still a doctor." Louis shrugs, taking a sip of his wine, before answering "I might be jealous of him, and I might not stand him, but that doesn't mean I would have just let him die. And besides that," he makes a pause and scratches his arm slightly, a bad habit he has developed when he gets uncomfortable, nervous, "you asked me to help."

"Jealous, huh..." Harry says, and he's not looking at him, he has stopped eating, but he's still not fucking looking at him. "Why's that?" Louis blinks. Isn't that obvious? Harry must be joking. But Louis doesn't have a problem laying all the cards out, being honest. If Harry needs the truth and the sincerity of his feelings to get shoved down his throat to understand their importance, their realness, then that's how it has to be.

"He's with you. I'm not." Louis just says, fingernails scratching over his tattoo absentmindedly.

"That bothers you." Harry states, and it's not a question. No. He's stating it as if it is a fact, and it is.

"Obviously."

Louis doesn't know if he's imagining the slight blush on Harry's cheeks, the way he ducks his head a bit, the way he looks bashful for a moment. "The irony of all this makes me want to laugh." Harry mumbles, more to himself than to Louis, and Louis lifts an eyebrow in question, "Nick is jealous of you."

Louis frowns. What does he have to be fucking jealous of? How dare he?

"Yeah. Exactly." Harry says, as if reading Louis’ face. They were always able to do that fairly easily, understand each other. Louis thinks so at least. Though lately, he doesn't know what Harry is thinking at all."He doesn't know you and I used to...well. But he's still jealous."

"Why?" Louis asks. There has to be a reason. Nick wouldn't just feel that way without a damn reason.

"I don't know." Harry mumbles, and he starts eating again, as if he's finished with that topic. But Louis stares at him, waiting for a real answer. "I said, I don't know." Harry repeats firmly, and Louis nods slowly. He's not getting it out of him. Wasted effort to try. Why did Harry mention it, when he doesn't want to talk about it? "He knows someone is paying for my college." Harry suddenly says then, "I didn't mean to tell him. We were fighting and it slipped over my lips."

"What did you say?" Louis asks, but Harry just shakes his head and Louis is left wondering. Told Nick in a fight. Maybe Nick had been suspicious from the very beginning. Harry stopped working at the restaurant, but is still able to go to college. There must be something wrong right? And maybe he kept pestering Harry about that, until what? Until Harry snapped at him, that at least someone cares enough to help him.

And that's when hell broke lose.

Louis is pretty proud of his imagination.

"He doesn't know it's you. But the knowledge of someone paying for my shit even though he doesn't want to, drives him insane. He doesn't think somebody would do that without expecting something in return. Nobody would spend that much money on me otherwise."

Louis swallows hard, his fingers tapping soundlessly on the side of his red wine filled glass. "You think he thinks there is somebody else."

"I don't think that." Harry corrects him, "I know that he thinks that. He doesn't trust me at all."

"That's what you're fighting about?" Louis asks, and Harry nods tiredly. It's weird, that Harry speaks over his relationship problems with him. But he's the only one here, and maybe Harry just needs to get it off his chest.

Louis knows that feeling, though his phone call with Ashton didn't really help at all.

"So what? He drank himself stupid yesterday because he thought you are cheating on him?" Louis asks now.

Harry smiles a sad smile, "Amazing what insane things someone in love will do, right?" Louis gets the feeling that Harry knows all to well. 

x x x

The curtains are new, a pale yellow and too bright with the morning sun shining through them. It looks like the world has started new, and it's decided to be as beautiful as it can. It's still too early for Louis to greet it though, and he closes his eyes. They fell asleep back to back, space between them, but now Harry's back is pressed against his chest, and he's breathing evenly in his sleep. They are sharing a pillow, and Louis’ arm is resting under it while the other is curled around Harry's chest. Harry's warm and soft and alive, like he is the center of it all, that's what it feels like when he feels the thud of his heart against his fingertips. Harry's arm rests over his, and Louis has never felt as relaxed in his life. His nose brushes against Harry's hair, and it smells good, fresh, clean. And he inhales.  
This is what it'd be like. If Louis hadn't pushed Harry away.

They would make breakfast, they would go for walks, they would go listen to the radio and Harry would sing along to trashy pop songs, and Louis would try and cook up something edible, and maybe they would play video games or just talk, god, they would just talk, and then they would have a shower and he would fuck him against the wall, and then later he would laugh at something stupid Harry said, and they would go to bed, wake up and repeat.

He kisses the nape of Harry's neck with dry lips, as gently as he can. He doesn't want to wake him up. He wants to stay like this. Let himself have this moment. Waking up to the feeling of unity, of being a part of something bigger, something he can't quite figure out but can still name.

Louis has never felt like this before in his life. Like his heart is about to explode.

But that's Harry. He has that effect. It's him. Yeah, that sounds about right. That sounds like something he'd manage to do. Harry stirs, and Louis nuzzles the spot behind his ear that he loves getting kissed. Harry hums, sounding pleased, and he turns to lie on his back. He's got a lazy smile on his lips, his eyes half parted. Louis’ not sure if he even sees him, maybe still too tired to comprehend what is going on. He looks sleepy and has bed hair, and Louis studies every detail as his hand moves to trace the features of his face, his fingertips moving on Harry's cheek. His lips part, and he's about to say something, but Louis presses his forefinger against his soft lips, silencing him.

Louis lets his finger slide to Harry's jaw, his heart beating fast and his hand settles on the side of Harry's neck. "I love you."

Harry lets out a noise, his eyes wide. "Louis..."

And it all comes together then, the past and the present and the future. Truthfully, Louis doesn't know much of anything. He's all talk. He has seen this country and he's seen a few others, and he's seen a lot of people and he had heard a lot of things, but he didn't understand any of it. Didn't understand because he didn't understand himself, but now it's all falling into place.

Except Harry is scrambling away from him, eyes wide, full of panic. Louis doesn't know what else to say. "I-" Harry says, and swallows hard, and Louis sighs, when Harry doesn't say more, when he stays silent.

He has nothing to say to him. Nothing to say to a confession that came far too late.

And even though his heart clenches painfully, he does the nice thing, he stands up and walks to the bathroom. He grants Harry the luxury of ignoring his words. Of not having to deal with him being a fool. When he steps into the bathroom, letting out a deep sigh, heart arching, he stops. Looks at the toothbrush mug, the simple white one that most hotels possess. Harry's toothbrush is blue. His is green. In the mug with his. And Harry must have put his next to Louis’ yesterday, clearly, and now the toothbrushes are in that mug together. And he quickly takes his out before the mental image spreads, but of course it spreads – his imagination has always been all over the place. And as he brushes his teeth, it gets colored in vividly: how in some alternative universe this is their hotel room and they came together to celebrate Robins wedding, and Louis just went to the bathroom, taking a quick shower, and then he will return to the bed and Harry will still be asleep in their bed. His hair a mess, his skin warm, him asleep, and then he's squirming when Louis touches him, complaining that his fingers are cold and his hair is wet, but Louis kisses his cheek anyway, morning, morning, morning, and Harry huffs but is smiling, turns his head to align their mouths.

That could have happened. 

That could have been them. 

Harry offered. He fucking well offered, and Louis knew it. 

And Louis said no.


	18. WILDFIRE

To say that the rest of the morning feels awkward is a big understatement.

Harry pretends that he hasn't said anything, ignoring his confession. It doesn't take that long for Louis to notice that, and even though he meant what he said, even though it's the truth, he regrets it.  
Harry is with Nick, and here he is, confessing his love to him like an idiot. He feels the hot burn of humiliation right in his stomach, making him push his scrambled eggs away from him. He hangs his head a bit in shame, his throat closing off. God, what was he thinking? Harry probably wishes he kept his mouth shut, before blurting out something so stupid.

"Excuse me," he mutters and stands up from the table. Harry only looks up at him, waiting for an explanation that Louis doesn't give. He needs a moment to himself.  
He walks out, fiddling with his cigarette, and Harry doesn't follow him. Of course he doesn't.

Why would he?

So he pities himself. Someone's got to. Fuck, he used to be so much stronger than this. None of this would have affected him two years ago, twelve months ago. He needs to put that armor back on, find that battered shield. It was potentially lethal to take it off.

He shouldn't have told him. He should have kept it to himself. Fucking stupid.

"It's nearly march, and it's still so cold."

He glances at Harry, who's not looking at him. Did he follow him after all? Or maybe not, maybe he's just finished with eating, and Louis can't just wander off. Because Harry still needs him. Needs him to pick up his boyfriend from the hospital.

"If you would dress accordingly, you wouldn't be so cold." he answers, though it's a bit ironic coming from him, since he is just in a shirt as well. But he isn't complaining is he? He takes a deep drag from his cigarette and then the next words leave his throat, in a mumble, nearly swallowed by the sound of his own shoes tapping against the pavement, as he nervously follows the need to move his body, "You want to pretend I didn't say anything?".

Harry blinks at him, and Louis can clearly see how his hands tightly clench in his shirt, knuckles turning white.  
Silence.

"I meant it though, you know," Louis says, as nonchalantly as he can force himself to sound, "what I said this morning. I meant it." Harry looks at the pavement, at the sky, at the entrance, at Louis’ cigarette burning between his fingers, loosing ash. He looks at everything but not at him, never at him, and he won't open his mouth.

He doesn't say anything.

"That's just-" Louis laughs a bit bitterly, heart sinking. "That's just great. I mean-" he clenches his fist a bit helplessly, taking a drag from the cigarette, distraught. "I mean. Yeah. I told you that I'm-" he shakes his head, before he lets the words spill over his lips again, "You don't have anything to say to that? Nothing at all? You don't care?"

Harry swallows hard, and for a moment he looks like he wants to say something, and Louis waits, but then...then nothing. He keeps his lips closed.

"I see."

His tone is icy and when he sees Harry flinch he ignores it. He lets his cigarette fall to the ground and puts it out with his shoe before turning his back to Harry, leaving him alone with the gray sky.

x x x

His whole life is awkward, he thinks, as he watches Harry greeting Nick in the lobby of the hospital. Just one awkward ride. Nick embraces his boyfriend promptly, pushing his mouth on Harry's for a quick kiss, and Louis wants to beat the guy's skull in. Take him right back into that hospital bed.

Harry and Nick had a fight, right? Why are they so happy to see each other? Shouldn't they be ignoring one another, throwing glares and angry remarks? Louis thought it wasn't going so well. After what Harry had told him. But it's obvious Nick matters to Harry. This life. Nick. It matters to Harry a whole fucking lot. Louis can see that in the way Harry smiles at Nick, all teeth and sunshine, the way he reaches out to take the others hand, fingers entangling, the way he leans against him a bit when they stand next to each other. Harry's feelings are so obviously displayed that Louis can't help but look away, his heart aching inside his chest.

Harry has got no reasons to love him. But he has Nick, and he's got his reasons for being with him. For being with the man who picked him up after Louis left him in pieces. He's got no one to blame but himself, Louis is fully aware of that. And he regrets. God, he regrets.

But it doesn't matter, it doesn't fucking matter.

The car ride is even more awkward. Harry and Nick chatter, and Louis keeps silent, concentrating on the road. He doesn't have anything to say to them. And honestly, he's done trying. He can't come through to Harry at all, and he's tired of hoping and running after him. Harry knows how he feels, and he was honest with him, laid his feelings right out there. For what? For Harry to ignore what he said? Fuck that. Fuck this.

It's too much suddenly, and it's all catching up to him now. It's a terrifying thing to do in itself, to tell someone he loves them, to be this open about he feels, to let someone in like this. He can count the times he told Eleanor that he loved her on one hand, saying something important like this means he makes himself vulnerable, and that might be the most terrifying word in the English language.  
His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he feels like the air in the car is getting thinner. He's angry, frustrated. The rejection only really sinking in now, and it's hard to keep calm when all he wants to do is throw both of them out of his car. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, and he notices how Harry looks at him from the side, but he keeps his eyes on the road, ignoring the glance resting on his face, though it's hard to do. It feels like he's burning and Harry's watching.

Thankfully the car ride ends before Louis snaps and throws them out somewhere in the middle of nowhere. So he drives them home, and when Harry closes the door, not really sparing him a glance and mumbling a quick 'thanks for the ride', when Louis takes off and he sees them in the rear view mirror, holding hands, Louis decides that he's done with the chasing.  
He only made a fool out of himself.

Trying to win Harry back, hoping for a chance, interpreting, overthinking, putting too much weight into Harry's actions, into Kendall's words, seeing things he wants to see that are not there at all and still, always, hoping, hoping, hoping.

Hoping for what? Another chance maybe. For Harry to realize that they are not dead yet. That he has to...feel the same way Louis does. That it's not over. Harry had to see that Nick isn't the answer, that Nick isn't Harry's happiness, because Louis is, after everything he has done, every time he has hurt Harry, he wants to be that for him. Wants to be the one.  
And then he told him he loves him, caught in the current. Caught up in the way Harry smiles at him, the way his body fits against his own, the way he smelled this morning, his own heart was beating wildly inside his chest, so fast, so noticeable. So clearly in love.

And now it's as bright as ever that Harry doesn't feel a damn thing anymore. That the love he once had for him had vanished, replaced with the feeling of regret and resentment. And he had known that, hadn't he? Harry's feelings regarding him are understandable, after all.

And now he needs to remind himself that Harry doesn't fucking miss him.

x x x

So his plan is to let Harry go, which sounds easy, but isn't. He couldn't manage to get Harry out of his head for 2 years, and it doesn't shock him that just because his brain decided that he should move on, that his heart is not really all that fond of the idea. Still hanging on to Harry. Stupid heart.

It's kind of ironic though, the day he decided to tell Harry how he felt, has also been the day he realized that he needs to forget him.

It's been more than a month now, and he hasn't heard from Harry since.

It doesn't surprise Louis. But the longing inside of him is stronger than ever. He wants to see him, he wants to talk to him, he wants to know what makes Harry tick at the moment, what is going on in his life? Is he happy? How's it going with Nick? The things he desperately wants to know, and the things he shouldn't care about anymore are sadly exactly the same. And maybe, he's a bit too desperate, but whenever Taylor mentions Harry's name, something in his heart arches, tears through him, makes his head lift up from his work, and listen carefully to whatever Taylor has to say about the man he loves.

It's really hard forgetting Harry when some tiny, hidden part of him is still so focused on winning him back. Some part of him is still hoping.  
It's not the logical part of him, Louis is very aware of that.

"So you...just..want to give him up?" Kendall asks, and Louis looks up from his coffee cup. It's nothing new, his meetings with Kendall over a cup of hot and creamy coffee, at the Starbucks across the street.

"I...don't exactly want to." Louis mumbles, his tone is bitter. "But he isn't interested in me. Not anymore. I spend enough time chasing him."

Kendall 'hmms' and doesn't seem so convinced. Outside the sun is shining, it's a nice day. Spring is coming. Louis doesn't feel like it. The gloomy weather of the winter suited his own morbid thoughts much better. But the weather never gave a damn about him anyway.

"He's interested, though." Kendall says then, casually nipping at her coffee. "He talks about you, he asks me how you are doing, how you are. He asked me if we were dating."

"Really?" Louis asks, eyebrows lifting in surprise, "I already told him that-"

"You are not interested." Kendall ends his sentence, and Louis nods, "He told me. But he asked anyway. It seems like now that I know about you and him, he comes to me to talk about it. He opens up to me." She smiles a bit, "He said it's nice to have someone to talk to."

Louis nods. Harry had said something like that. How he's lucky that he has people to talk to about it. But Harry has that too. He just needs to look around more. Why not Zayn though? But Louis guesses that only works in his favor, doesn't it? Zayn hates his guts after all.

"So he talks about you. He shows interest. Why are you giving up now, Louis?" Kendall asks, and Louis swallows hard.

"I love him," he says, and Kendall looks confused for a second, but waits for him to go on. "I told him that. He didn't say anything to that. And I-" his voice breaks. Maybe a little. And he swallows. It's hard to admit to himself, even harder speaking about it. Putting it into words makes it even more real. Kendall looks concerned and Louis can't look her in the eyes. "I love him, and he doesn't fucking-"

"Louis...hey," Kendall says, and her tone is soothing. He wonders for a moment how pathetic he has to look. Talking about how he is in love with a man who has already forgotten all about him. "Louis listen, he probably-"

"No," he says, and he blinks a bit, his eyes feel too wet. "He doesn't care. It means nothing to him."

"That's not true," Kendall shakes her head, and she looks angry. Sad and angry, and a bit helpless, "Louis, you know that's not true."  
He doesn't say anything to her. The lump in his throat is hard to swallow down. And Kendall says, voice pleading. "Don't give up on him."

As if she knows how he feels.

"You love him." Kendall goes on, "I know that. I can see it. And he...the way he talks about you, and the way he says your name..." she shakes her head a bit, "Louis. It isn't one-sided. Whatever it is, it's not one-sided."

"He still means everything to me." Louis mumbles, leaning back in his chair, pinching his nose bridge. "And I could have treated him better, but I wasn't that smart. So what now?"  
Kendall looks helpless, and he wonders, why this woman wants him and Harry back together again. Is it because she has a strong dislike for Nick? Or is it because Kendall really feels like there's something between them?

It doesn't matter though. He has made up his mind. "Just...take care of yourself, Louis."

Everyone always assumes that he doesn't. 

x x x

It's a dumb idea. A really, really dumb idea. But when he's out drinking with Ashton, Calum and Bepo , and he sees the tall blond man watching him from across the room, he really can't help himself but smile back a little.

"Are...you...Dude." Ashton says, laughing a bit, "Are you flirting with that guy over there?!"

"I might be." he mumbles, keeping his eyes trained on the man at the end of the room. "Why?"

"Why?" Ashton asks, "What about Harry?"

This is about Harry, Louis thinks. The man is tall, blond, blue eyes, dirty grin. He's everything Harry isn't. He's perfect for getting his mind off of him. He's perfect for proving himself that...  
That what?

That he has given Harry up fully?

Probably, yeah. It makes sense in his mind. Harry was the only man he ever had, and maybe he just needs to replace his touch on his skin. It makes sense. It does.  
"Yeah, what about him?" he asks, because shit. He's murdering Harry right here, right now. With this. He doesn't want to think about him anymore. He wants all of his memories dead. Harry not saying a word to him after he confessed has hurt him deeply.

So he leaves Ashton with these words, and makes his way over. The man is grinning at him, like he expected Louis to come to him.  
His name is Franco, he's from Spain, and he only just moved here for business reasons. His accent is thick, but Louis kinda likes it.  
It doesn't matter though, not when his lips are kissing down his neck, and the light of the party is flashing pictures behind Louis’ minds. Pictures, memories, Harry. He squeezes his eyes shut and Franco asks, "¿Vamos a mi casa o a la tuya?" Louis blinks, and Franco's grin sharpens.

"Your place or mine?" 

x x x

In the end he doesn't go through with it. It was a dumb idea. And instead of spending the night fucking, they talked.  
He kept Franco's number though. He told him no, he's not interested. But Franco insisted. Just in case, he ever changed his mind. He thought he could forget Harry like this, forget his touch, everything. Replace his hand-prints on him with a different touch.

He thought Franco would help bury these memories It didn't work.

x x x

"We are celebrating Harry's birthday tonight." Taylor says over the sound of the needle, "You should come."

Louis doesn't stop in his movement, but tenses a bit, he doesn't answer Taylor right away, acting like he's too focused on tattooing his client. It's far from the truth, his mind is reeling.  
He hasn't seen Harry in over two months. Shit. And now what? Is he going to jump at the first opportunity to see him again? Is he that pathetic?

"Really?" he just asks trying hard to keep his voice leveled, when the silence stretches on for too long.

"Yeah, he asked me if you want to come," Taylor smiles a bit, leaning against the door frame, and Louis can't help but stop in mid-air, "Party is at cowell's."

"He said he wants me there?" he asks, before he can stop himself. He bites his lip, glancing at Taylor's frowning face.

"Why would he not want you there? Did you guys-"

"No, no." Louis answers quickly, putting the needle on his clients skin again. The girl he's tattooing is listening, but clearly doesn't mind them chatting a bit. "I was just asking..."

"So are you coming?" No.

He shouldn't.

He's over Harry. He has forgotten about him. His heart hurts.

"Yes." 

x x x

Louis tries to keep his composure when Harry hugs him, welcoming him. His heart jumps right to his throat though, and he wants to press his body closer to his.

So much about forgetting him.

He talks to him briefly, just chit-chatting, but Harry looks happy to see him, and his conversation with Kendall is on the front of his mind. Harry still cares. It's what Kendall has said. Is it true though? Does he really?

"I haven't seen you in so long," Harry smiles, big and bright, "Glad you could make it."

Louis isn't sure if Harry is honest, or if he's just exchanging pleasantries, but either way, the words make something in Louis’ heart flutter. He knows Harry hasn't forgotten his confession and hasn't forgotten how he hurt him.

But maybe he accepted him as a friend.

Too bad, though. Being Harry's friend is not really his goal. But he can't deny how happy it makes him to see him again. It's a strange thing, he wanted to forget so badly, and now that Harry is in front of him again, telling him how he's glad he's here, it makes him want to chase him again.

Makes him wonder why he even thought about letting him go.

"Thanks for the invite." he smiles politely, leaning a bit into his space, "You look really good today, Harry." Okay, so maybe he's flirting. Whatever. He can't help it. Harry isn't exactly shying away from him either. He's just smiling bashfully at him, cheeks rosy. Louis wonders how much Harry had to drink.

"So do you." Harry grins, and shit. Louis wants to kiss him.

"How have you been?" he asks instead, and Harry shrugs, his eyes gliding to Nick's just a short distance away from them. "Good," he just says, and nods again. "Good. How about you?"  
He could say that he's doing well. That he's good. Really, really good. But Harry would know that's a lie. Harry knows that he's miserable. That he still-

"You know, I have been missing you," he says instead, he's being honest, and he expects Harry to be honest with him too. Harry ducks his head a bit, doesn't look at him, but he's not moving away from either, they are still close. "Louis, I-"

"Louis!" it's Nick, interrupting them, and Harry moves away from him instantly. Louis nearly breaks the red heads teeth in. He doesn't give a fuck if his skin breaks and his tattoos are ruined forever. It would be so worth it.

"Nick," he nods, he really can't bring himself to even smile at him. When he turns back to look at Harry, he looks more than uncomfortable standing between them.  
He excuses himself quickly from them, and Harry doesn't stop him. He greets Kendall who seems to be happy that's here.

"They had a fight, just this morning." Kendall whispers to him, and Louis looks over to Nick and Harry again. How they are talking, casually touching each other comfortably. Louis doesn't really believe a word Kendall says.

Luke seems a bit nervous around him, but that doesn't seem to stop him from chatting to him, about his new radio show, and how amazing he is for saving Nick, how wow, he's a doctor? He doesn't look like one, amazing! And Louis slowly but surely feels a headache coming on. He excuses himself. It's not really Lukes fault. But more Nick and Harry's.

The way Harry clings onto Nick is sickening. The way Nick clings onto Harry is just as bad. They're happy, Louis gets it. But the way they keep touching each other is vile. Kendall said they had a fight, Louis is seeing nothing that indicates that.

The bar has been reserved just for Harry's party, and they're scattered to different tables. He can see Kendall chatting with Robin now, and he spots Taylor too, dancing with her boyfriend. And he's sitting here, drowning some alcohol. A night off, live a little. Champagne for all. Plenty of wine for all.

He has left their company and settled at the bar, drinking whisky and nibbling on the salty peanuts. He keeps looking over to the table where Harry is, how Nick casually has his hand on the back of his neck even as he's talking to Zayn across the table.

Nick is acting like the perfect boyfriend and it's pissing Louis off. Because he knows they have problems. He knows they were fighting.

Nick being in the hospital wasn't meant to bring them together.

But the two seem to have forgotten all the previous fights and disagreements. Oh, Nick is such a proud partner or boyfriend or fool. That happy look on his face. Yeah, smile while you can.  
Louis squeezes his whisky glass too tight, and tells himself to get a fucking grip and stop it. He's so obvious.

He smokes heavily, but he doesn't touch the whisky too much. He wants to stay sober, wants to remember the way Harry looks now, on his birthday, smiling. Harry laughs. They laugh. They have moved their chairs closer to one another's. Accidentally, Louis tells himself. By pure, pure accident. They don't notice him staring at them.

"Top me off," Louis tells the bartender, and he does. He drinks down the sixteen- year-old golden liquid and gets up, deciding that he needs to get away.  
Enough's enough, Tomlinson.

He remembers that in summer Simon's Bar opens up the rooftops and he decides to 'fuck it,' as he walks into the small room where the stairs to the roof are. He climbs upstairs, ignoring the sign that says the rooftops aren't open. He wants to be away from them. Maybe he will just jump tonight, who cares?

God, he's gotten morbid.

"What the hell are you doing?" a voice asks and he nearly flops back down the stairs. He looks down, cigarette still between his lips, and sees Harry staring back at him, features lit by the flashing lights of the party.

"I'm drunk. Let me be." he says, even though he isn't that drunk, climbing the last bit of the stairs before he stands on the rooftop of the building.

"Seriously?" Harry shouts from where he's standing at the feet of the stairs, but Louis ignores him.

Doesn't Harry know that he's trying to forget him? Why is he making it so difficult for him?

"Fuck this," he sighs heavily and drops onto his back, his knees bent. The night keeps breathing and he hears it loud and clear, heart racing. Smoke swirls from his glowing cigarette tip into the sky, against the dark blue of it where stars are twinkling brightly. Thousands and thousands of light years away...

Life is so fucking unfair.

He pays Harry's college tuition. He comforted him when Nick was lying in the hospital from drinking himself stupid. He's always trying to show Harry what he means to him. And now he's right back here, at square one, wondering how these things manage to backfire on him.

"Louis?" Harry calls out from downstairs. "Aren't you coming back down?" 

"No."

He wanted to forget him, and here he is again. He's getting tired of hoping. Of waiting. He used to just fucking take Harry. No questions asked. No need for permission. He had Harry wrapped around his finger. And –

"So where are you right now?"

Louis looks up, and sees Harry's silhouette upside down. His tone is playful: though it reminds him of all the times he lied to Eleanor and Harry asked "Where are you right now?" and he said, "At work, at the bar, with friends, taking a walk," when in reality he had been with Harry. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I'm lying on top of a building, smoking." He inhales deep and exhales further smoke. "Where are you?"

"Getting some fresh air." He walks closer and sits down next to Louis, "Following you."

Louis tries to assess the situation: he follows him... It's a change from Harry avoiding him like the plague or temptation or the thing that ruins his life and fucks him up. He's seeking him out. But hasn't he been doing just that lately? Seeking him out?

He remembers the moment with Harry on the balcony of the hotel, he remembers the walk through the park, he remembers Harry pressed against him that morning, that morning where he couldn't keep himself in check and let these stupid words fall over his lips.

"Why?" he asks, because yeah. If Harry is so happy with Nick, what is he doing here with him?

"I feel like there's something we should talk about...something...left unsaid." Louis doesn't say anything.

He feels Harry lying down next to him, his arm briefly brushing his own. Louis looks at the stars. Harry points up. "That one over there is Gemini."

"Where?"

"That one." Harry shuffles closer until their heads are touching and Louis’ heart is beating hard inside his chest from being so close to him. He squints and follows the angle of Harry's finger.

"Oh yeah."

"I don't know how exactly it's meant to look like twins."

"If you look at it sideways, it does," Louis says, leaning his head to the side. "Arms, two pairs of legs... See? There." He draws lines into the air.

Harry is also tilting his head. "Yeah, I kind of see it now."

"You know how they got up there?" Louis asks him, feeling the shake of Harry's head against his own. So close. Too close. He swallows the lump in his throat. "The twins were Castor and Pollux. They had the same mother, but different fathers. Don't ask me how," Louis adds when Harry draws in a breath like he's about to object. "It's Greek mythology, anything is possible. But because of this, only Pollux was immortal. Castor was a mere human. They were inseparable, but then Castor died in battle. Pollux couldn't deal with the loss of his twin, and so he offered his immortality, was willing to give it up. A compromise was come to: one day Pollux would be on Mount Olympus and Castor would be in Hades, and the next day the other way around. Immortal but never together. Well. That's one of the sadder versions. They also say that Zeus took pity on them and made them stars in the sky, to be immortal together for all times." He traces the invisible lines of the constellation with his fingers. "And there they still are."

"I think I like the second version better," Harry says quietly. 

"I think I like the first."

Harry breathes evenly in the dark. Louis hears female laughter from a distance. Happy and faraway. A dog barks.

"I've got one," Harry then says, leaning in again and pointing at the sky. "It looks like a piece of meat, you see?"

"I see it. What's it called?"

"The Meat constellation. Obviously." 

"Well, obviously." Harry laughs softly and something in Louis’ stomach drops. He takes a final drag of the cigarette and flicks it away into the dark. "I got one too," Louis says. "See those four stars there that kind of form a line? That's the Line constellation."

"Oh wow. You're so knowledgeable." 

"It's true. I am."

"Are you sure that's the Line constellation, though? See, if you continue it there, like this, and it curves and comes back down..." Harry shows what he means, and Louis nods, humming. "Well. That just looks like heart."

"Trust you to find a heart up there."

"Who has them all over his body? You or me?"

"Shut up, you like 'em."

"I like the word on your hands more. What was it? Love?" Harry muses in a mock serious voice. Louis snorts and gives Harry's shoulder a gentle shove, who only snickers. Fucking Nick.  
And then Louis’ heart nearly fucking stops right there. Because Harry takes a hold of his hand before Louis can pull it back, and Harry's fingers are lacing with his own, fingers brushing over the letters on his digits. Harry doesn't look at him but keeps gazing upwards, their hands settling on his stomach.

Louis swallows hard.

A sudden tranquillity and awareness stirs up in him. Perfect ease and unbearable tension at the same time. Harry's fucking with his head. Fingers sliding over his tattoed skin, brushing over his knuckles, and he's fucking with his head. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? He knows Louis is in love with him. Is he just messing with him? But Harry isn't that cruel, is he?

"I just wanted to say thank you. For helping me out so much."

"You don't need to thank me." Louis gets out, their hands rise and fall with Harry's even breaths. He seems comfortable like this, at ease. Louis’ mind races. "Are we leaving any time soon? Back down to the bar?"

"Ah. Remember the first time we met there? Outside of the bar?" 

"What?" Louis tilts his head to the side to see Harry's profile.

"Well... it was the second time we talked to each other." Harry laughs nervously. 

"That was a long time ago." Louis says.

But Harry still remembers.

"I just thought –" Harry begins but then stops. "God, I don't know." A helpless laugh. "Too many memories, you know? And comparing to then and now, it's all so different. We're really different." Harry exhales steadily. "We didn't talk much but I knew that I wanted to see you again."

"How fucking romantic," Louis whispers. Heart nearly breaking out of his rip- cage.

There's a moment, a lull, a sharp tug in his stomach. Harry's hand slides over his mid-section, and Louis’ fingers twist in the hair at the back of Harry's head. His warm brown eyes meet his own and then drop onto his lips. Repeat history. Quickened heart beats. A rush of blood. Louis’ mind is racing; Be mine, be mine.  
Harry swallows hard, breathing shallow.

"I..." Harry starts, quietly, so close, "I really shouldn't-"

Harry stops mid-movement of leaning down, and Louis thinks, no, not now, the want in him growing and cLouising at his insides. He waited too long for this to let Harry back down now.  
Come on, give up already.

"Don't think about it," Louis says quietly, gently pulling Harry down. Don't. Just let it happen. It's just a kiss. Just a simple...  
His lips find Harry's. Soft. Tentative. Harry lets out an uneven breath. Blinks, eyes wide. A spark runs through Louis, as strong as it ever has been. Harry was going to let him kiss him back in his home before they got interrupted, Louis knows that. And now they're here again, far too close for two friends or former lovers. And he kisses him because there is no way he cannot.

Harry's lower lip slips between his own as he presses their mouths together. Harry doesn't pull back. Instead he lets out this tiny sound, like a quiet murmur of pleasure, a gasp. Hot fire erupts inside, his guts twisting painfully with yearning. Harry's skin is addictive as ever, his touch, his love. And the warmth spreads inside him like a wildfire, hot, burning him inside out. His heart in flames.  
He couldn't handle it the first time, but now, he is so ready. Harry needs to see that.

That if he lets him back in, then all the times Louis has hurt him, it'll only be an ugly memory. Louis promises. He swears. Because he doesn't manage without Harry. He's just lost. Angry. Confused. Like an animal forced to leave its turf, thrown into some unknown land, disorientated. He's not himself without him.

Louis kisses him with clear intent, needing to get closer. Harry's lips part under pressure, and their tongues slowly brush together, wet and hot. He breathes out unevenly, hesitating. Louis kisses harder, trying to push him over, to make him give up. And Harry does. He bends. He breaks. He pushes closer, opening up further. They kiss fervently, tracing a taste that is so familiar that they could never forget even if they wanted to. He lets his hands move up to Harry's hair, pulling just the way Louis knows Harry likes it. And sure enough, Harry hisses and sucks on his lower lip. It goes straight to Louis’ groin and he twists around the strands of Harry's hair, pulling, making him expose his neck as his head turns. Louis lets his mouth move to Harry's jaw and his neck, and Harry breathes hard, letting him. He kisses the vein running on his neck, feeling the fast pulse of it and Louis feels driven insane by his desire for him.

He pushes his hips against Harry's who loses his breath from the contact. He feels Harry's fingers dig into his shoulders. "Stop," he breathes out. Louis looks him in the eye – his blown pupils, fuck – and leans in closer to kiss him despite the warning. "Stop," Harry repeats, but he's not exactly trying to push him away. Louis stays still and slowly licks his lower lip as he breathes hard, trying to recompose himself. And even in the dim light of the surrounding city he can see how Harry's cheeks are rosy. He has turned him on. "I've sworn to myself," Harry whispers feebly.

Louis leans closer, their foreheads pressing together. He closes his eyes. "What?" What silly, unkeepable promise has he made?

"Not to be like you."

And then Louis feels a push on his chest, and no, no, no. Harry's pushing him away, resisting. Louis feels his heart break, because he thought he had him. He had him, right here. Where he wants him. Gasping underneath him, kissing him. Letting him in again.

But now he's pushing away from him, standing up, not looking at him. And the smile and that carefree attitude has vanished, and there is the Harry Louis is most afraid of. The Harry who still hasn't forgiven him.

"Harry..." he starts, scrambling to stand up, to catch up, to not let this be over. They just shared something again, something special, and there might have been sparks, and fireworks, a wildfire. Louis doesn't know what it was exactly, but there was something big. Something so gratifying. He can't let Harry ignore it.

And then Harry shakes his head, and he looks confused, like a man being pulled into two different directions, and Louis doesn't even know what to say to express how he feels, doesn't know what to say to make Harry stay. To make it all good.

"I have to go, please don't...you know. I didn't mean to." Harry says quickly, and hurries past him.

And then he leaves him. Right here on the rooftops, where the stars shine, Pollux and Castor looking down at him, the air tousling his air, and he feels like jumping right off the building. His hopes crushed. His heart beating so wildly in his chest.

It's not over. It cannot be over because the corpse still has a pulse. It's unfinished. Unresolved.

And it will never go away.


	19. HERE NOW

"What do you mean you guys kissed?" Kendall's voice is high and hysterical, disbelieving. She's nearly rising out of her seat.

"We kissed." Louis confirms, nodding again, "Then he pushed me away. Said he's not like me. And left." Kendall's mouths opens and closes again and Louis watches a bit amused. He scratches his arm lightly, slightly nervous. A good nervous, though. Talking about that night makes him feel all tingly inside.

They kissed. He had him. So close. So damn close.

"This is brilliant!" Kendall claps her hands together, nearly spilling her coffee. Louis raises an eyebrow, but Kendall asks, obviously curious. "So what do you plan to do now?"

"Well..." Louis starts, he hasn't really thought about it. Or well. He has but... He doesn't know if he's ready to put his heart on the line again. "I thought I would stop by today. Confront him about it... I don't care how desperate I will look then, if that's what it would take to get him back. Then I don't care."

Kendall's eyes widen, and it looks like Louis said something wrong. "Oh no. No, no, no. Louis. No. You've to wait." She looks like she is thinking really hard. "Look, Harry is confused. Let him come to you."

"What?" Louis asks, "And what If he doesn't-"

"He will." Kendall nods, "He just needs time to think about it. He still feels something for you, and he knows what he has with Nick can't compare."

"This is not a game." he says, frowning. "If he doesn't get that I love him, then I need to tell him again, and I need to tell him that I-"

"Louis." Kendall cuts him short, "Trust me. You can't confront him now. He needs to come on his own. He needs time to think about what he wants, how he feels. And then...he will come to you."  
Louis sighs heavily. It irks him. Now that he got somewhere with Harry he wants it all. And he wants it all now.

The kiss just ignited something between them again, a burning fire. A desire to be close. To feel, to touch, to take.

"You planted a seed. Now just wait and watch it grow." Kendall says, wisely, and Louis thinks that waiting is not something he is particularly good at. Especially for Harry.

x x x

Two weeks.

He has waited for Harry two weeks.

Or less, really, because it's in the afternoon that Louis becomes aware of the knocking on his door. Louis tries to fix his hair that's still wet from a shower. He grabs the first shirt he sees, sliding it on as he makes his way to the door.

13 and half a day maybe? Time has ceased to matter lately. If it's anyone else but Harry, he'll punch them, because 13 and half a day of patience isn't easy. The knock sounds melodic, like it's following a pattern or a tune that ends up indistinguishable.

He opens the door.

It finally clicks into place. Everything. Louis’ heart is beating inhumanly fast.

"Um. Hi," Harry says, standing there, looking terrified like a mouse about to step into a trap, and he's beautiful. He's here now. His eyes fly up and down Louis’ form. "Is – Is this a bad time?"

"No. God, not at all." Louis opens the door further and motions him to step in.

Harry clears his throat, like he's trying to keep a professional line. Louis closes the door after him and does one button above his navel, the plain white dress shirt hanging on him though it's a perfect fit at the shoulders. Harry looks at his bare feet and black jeans, and Louis says, "Just got out of a shower."

Harry's eyes linger a bit and he says, "Huh." He swallows hard and averts Louis’ gaze. "I came to talk...I think we need to talk." His voice is searching like he wants Louis to confirm that they need to speak about it, and Louis does with a nod.

His living room looks like it's been hit by a hurricane, the floor littered by clothes and any near-by furniture, surrounded by empty liquor bottles, dirty glasses, full ashtrays, a stash of weed on the coffee table, and Louis really should have cleaned up.

"A bit messier than last time," Harry observes. Yeah. Clearly. "You want a beer?"

Harry looks like Louis asked something a lot more complicated than that. "Yeah. Thanks."

He takes him in, standing in his living room, two buttons of his jacket undone. He looks like he feels out of place, and there's something to his features, something that's got him wound up. "This way," Louis says simply. He nods towards the kitchen, and Harry follows. He slowly unbuttons his jacket, and Louis presses his fingernails into his palms to keep his hands where they are. The way Harry looks, self-conscious, might as well think he's taking all of his clothes off. Harry leaves the coat hanging from the back of one of the dining chairs, and he keeps looking around nervously, like he's not sure if he's done a stupid thing coming here.

He hasn't.

His eyes fly over Harry's form: black jeans, red shirt. He looks good. Almost like he dressed up just for coming here. Louis wonders how long he stood opposite the building, talking himself out of this when it was already too late.

He opens the fridge door and looks at its almost gaping emptiness. "Miller?"

"Yeah." With every word he says, Louis’ pulse picks up. It's surreal, this moment, even if he knew it had to happen, it had to or else Louis would've – But he tries to remain calm. Breathe. He gets out two bottles, rummaging the cabinets for a bottle opener for embarrassingly long, handing Harry the other bottle when he joins him. He's leaning against the doorframe, not that there is an actual door, just an open archway that links the dining room to the kitchen that Louis hardly ever uses. Louis stays opposite him, letting his back lean against the wall structure. His toes almost touch his shoes.  
He's pale, eyes a bit scared. God, Harry doesn't need to be scared. Louis’ got it from here.

They drink their beers quietly, and Harry clearly doesn't know where to look. Kitchen floor. Dining room table. The radio on the windowsill. Into the living room.  
Louis finishes his beer quickly, without either one of them having said a word. And now.

Now it's time.

Harry takes a sip as Louis steps closer and his posture immediately goes rigid. He stands up straighter, but he's still shorter than Louis by far. His eyelashes are dark against his skin, his full bottom lip moistened by the beer. Louis reaches out to the counter on Harry's side and puts his bottle down, using it as an excuse to take another step. His knee touches Harry’s. He doesn't move. Harry's breathing fills the air, shallow, dragged. Harry's beer bottle is still between them, and Louis reaches out to take it. He loosens his hold, and Louis looks him in the eyes. He's starting to look a bit flushed.

Louis knocks down the rest of Harry's beer and places the bottle next to his own.

Harry shifts, like this limbo is killing him, and he brushes against Louis, legs and crotch, and Louis places a hand on his hip. He stills. Doesn't say anything. Ducks his head, like he's just going to focus on breathing. Louis leans close, right into his space, until his nose touches Harry's cheek. Harry's breaths wash against his lips, so close he can almost taste him, and he tries to hold back what could be a whine. His eyes close, and he must be bruising Harry's hip with his too firm hold but Harry doesn't say anything. The tip of his nose slides across Harry's cheek, to his hair, and his body feels like it's been wound up so tight, so fucking tight, and Louis breathes him in, his cock hardening from his scent alone.

Louis swallows hard. Tries to think. Can't. His hands are shaking, his heart feels like it's on a suicide mission to die from overheating, and warmth spreads to every cell in his body. Harry tilts his head towards him, his wet lips briefly making contact with Louis’ cheek. Louis swallows hard before he whispers, "I'm not going to kiss you."

Harry jerks, a gush of air hitting Louis’ cheek. There's a lull, a momentary silence of neither one of them moving, and then he says, "Don't you – Because...there is someone else?" He sounds confused. Breathless.

"That's not what I said." Louis pushes his hips closer until they are pressed together. Harry lets out a surprised noise. Blood pounds in his ears and he tries to remain still. "I said that I'm not going to kiss you. I don't want to be pushed away again."

Louis turns his head to look at Harry. He's staring at him, pupils blown, mouth shiny, cheeks rosy. His eyes focus on Louis’ mouth. "I can't," he whispers, breathing hard, and then he kicks into motion.  
He fists Louis’ hair and pulls him in, their mouths crashing, and it erupts in Louis’ chest, all of it, his taste, his hands, his touch. Harry kisses him hard, full of want, and Louis grips his hips hungrily. His mouth opens up, and their tongues meet, wet and hot. He tastes like beer and he tastes like him, and Louis feels like he's going to explode with the way his heart beats wildly. He feels driven insane by want.

He pushes against Harry's body, pushing himself closer. This is it. This is what he wants. He wants to be close to him, feel his warmth, bath in the feeling that he erupts inside of him. He pushes Harry backwards, and he walks with him. It's hard to navigate, when Louis is so focused on kissing Harry breathless, but somehow they manage to lie on the couch, Harry beneath him. It's everything Louis wanted in the last few months.

They stop kissing for a second, looking at each other. Harry looks pained.

It's not the expression Louis hoped he would see and something in his heart arches a bit at the way Harry looks at him. He's still beautiful though. He's astounding. He's the most beautiful thing Louis has ever seen. He rubs his face with one hand, trying to suppress a smile or a worshipping gaze.

"Hey," he says soothingly, pressing little kisses down Harry's throat. "What's wrong?"

"This." Harry mumbles, but he doesn't make a move to push him away, instead he leans his head back, exposing his skin for him. "Everything. I just came to talk." Louis doesn't answer, sliding his mouth up Harry's throat, his jar, and catching Harry's lips with his own again. Harry makes a sound of pleasure and Louis feels Harry's hands tangling in his hair, pushing him down, kissing him back harder.

"You don't know how much I've been waiting for this," he mumbles against Harry's lips, wet and hot, and fuck, Harry shouldn't make himself so tempting. Louis will never let him leave now, "how much I've thought about this."

"Louis..." Harry has his eyes closed, and Louis leans their foreheads together, breathing each other in. When Harry opens them again, Louis sees tears at the corners of his warm brown eyes and it feels like a kick into his guts.

No, there shouldn't be tears. There should be a smile. A breathtaking, radiating smile. The smile that Louis knows only Harry can smile.

"Don't cry," he murmurs, kissing Harry's cheek.

"I'm not, just-" Harry says, sounding choked up, and Louis feels a hand on his chest, pushing him up and away. Louis sits up between Harry's legs. And he touches his knee, can't help but keep touching. Harry's cheeks are rosy, he looks flustered.

"I just wanted to talk, but...I can't think straight and-" Harry moves to sit up, before Louis can even say anything, let alone do something to keep Harry from going anywhere. Harry stands up, and Louis’ brain only catches up when his body warmth leaves his own. He leaps from the couch quickly once he gets what's going on.

"What are you doing?"

What the fuck does he think he's doing?

Harry doesn't look at him, adverting his eyes. "I'm going."

"Are you serious? This isn't funny Harry." Louis walks over in four long strides, grabbing Harry's small shoulders. "Harry." He avoids eye contact. "Harry. Harry."

He looks up, and there it is: Confusion. Right there in his eyes. A tormented confusion and anger rooted in it, and Harry snaps, "Kissing you is not what I-" he shakes his head, "I just wanted to talk. I want to stop thinking about you, I..I want to stop-"

"No," Louis cuts him off, capturing his lips though he turns his head away. "No stopping." Never. It's not an option.

"Louis," Harry says, sounding broken. Louis can fix it. He can, but that requires Harry not going. "I can't do this to Nick." His voice wavers. "Not to him. I'm not like you."

"You did what you wanted. We only did what we both wanted," Louis says, cupping the back of Harry's head and kissing him. Harry responds, hands fumbling, not sure whether to take hold of him or not.

Louis puts everything into the kiss, everything, his love, the magic powers needed to make him stay, and Harry kisses back like he desperately wants to hold on.  
"There's nothing wrong with this," he says against Harry's lips, and that's when he pulls himself free of his hold.

"You think leaving is going to solve anything?" Louis asks him angrily. Disbelieving. "You think you can pretend this never happened? Because you can't! Don't think for a second that I'll let you do that!"

"It's just... I've made a mistake." Harry says and he grabs his jacket from the back of the dining chair closest to him and throws it on before trying to get past him to the door. Louis blocks his way, grabbing his arm and keeping him still. 

"Yeah. A mistake by not coming here sooner."

Harry looks hurt but why? Louis’ words? Nick? He pulls himself free, and Louis doesn't even know what's going on anymore, why Harry is doing this when they both know where he belongs. Why he is trying to Edwardtage this for them? It doesn't make any sense as Louis follows him to the door, watching him button his jacket, and then he's there, fingers curling around the door handle.

"Harry!" Louis yells, not caring how desperate he sounds. Harry stops, and Louis’ trembling. "You walk out that door, and you'll regret it! You will always regret it! Because you can't deny this, what we have. You leave now, and it will eat you up inside." Harry's not moving. He's listening. "You're not going to tell him. Stay or go, you will never tell him about what happened, and neither will I. It's not wrong to go after what you want, Harry. Fuck, when was the last time you thought what you wanted and fucking went for it? Do you even remember? Because no matter what happens, this won't change. Us. And if you go, you'll lie there tonight, ridden with useless guilt and not because of what you did, but because you can't fucking stop thinking about me. When you wake up, when you go to bed, when he fucking makes you come, you'll be thinking about me. But if you walk out that door, I swear you will regret it!...fuck!" Louis swears, desperate, out of his wits, heart pounding. This hurts. "How can you fucking regret what we just did? When I feel like you are the best thing that ever happened to me?!"

Excruciatingly slowly, Harry's hand drops back to his side. He turns around slowly, too slowly, and then he leans against the door, shoulders slumped, looking small. He's got a look in his eyes like Louis’ the worst fucker he's ever come across and maybe he really is. But then he laughs emptily, out of desperation, maybe. Harry's shaking his head,

"But I don't regret it. I don't. That's the thing." 

"Right. You'll just pretend it never happened."

"No." His green eyes meet Louis’. "I don't want that either." He sounds anguished for some insane reason. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "That was… I nearly...God, the things you do to me don't have words." Louis’ heart swells instantly. A dark cloud appears behind Harry's eyes. "I don't regret it, and that's the worst part. I only feel like shit when I think of what I'm doing to other people."

"You mean Nick," Louis supplies for him. The room feels colder than before. But Harry's not going. He's not leaving.

"Don't say his name that way." He sounds hurt on his behalf. 

"What way am I supposed to say it?"

"I'm the fuck up here. Not him. He's never done a single thing wrong." Louis would disagree: he took what was rightfully his. "Fuck," Harry sighs, "You with your lies and your fucking messes, and me here again, and fuck. What am I doing to Nick? To myself?" He seems to be getting himself worked up over this.

"I told you I'm done with that, I don't want to hurt you, I just-" Louis says quickly, slightly desperate for Harry to understand.

"You say that, but I don't even know if I trust you," Harry laughs, and the words cut in deep. Of course he can trust him. Louis’ the only person he should ever trust. "The thought of… trusting you. Of letting you in fucking terrifies me."

"Why would it scare you?" Louis asks in confusion.

"Of course it does," Harry says, which isn't an answer. "Look, I'm... I'm really confused right now."

"Okay," Louis says soothingly.

"I need to figure things out. About what I - feel and what I want, and - I feel like shit that I did this to Nick. I'm not like you, I can't do something like this so easily. I miss Nick when he's not around, you know? I miss him," he says empathetically like Louis might not get him otherwise, "And I- I miss you, because I still-" He stops and stares at Louis like he's a mirage. "God, I miss you. I still fucking miss you." Harry exhales heavily. He looks like the words alone are hard for him to get out. "I'm just really exhausted emotionally, and I just don't know-"

"But you're saying that I've got a shot," Louis interrupts him because that's what it sounds like.

He's got a shot.

Louis can't even begin to describe at how fast his heart is going right now. He's actually a bit concerned for himself. But Harry is giving him a chance. That's what he's saying. That Louis got a chance.  
"I mean, yeah, but...the two of us," Harry says feebly. "How could that ever work?"

"Amazingly well," Louis tells him, suddenly full of renewed hope. He's got a shot. Harry's here, he's not running away, he's acknowledging it. Them.  
Louis’ heart is nearly bursting out of his chest. Smile stretching over his face. "Can I kiss you? I really want to."

"No."

"We were doing that just before, but now I can't kiss you?" 

"No."

"That's some fucked up logic you've got there," Louis says, not even upset, just grinning and feeling light. Harry laughs, but this is all heavy for him, Louis can see that. It's draining him and confusing him and keeping him up at night. Louis get that he feels bad that he'll break Nick's heart, but Nick will get over it. He will. Harry says, "I think I need some perspective on things."

"Yeah, absolutely."

"Sometimes it's hard to see the bigger picture..."

"I agree." Louis might be nodding excessively, but every word Harry says between now and finally giving up the fight and being Louis’, being his, is a word of wisdom that Louis will fully support.

"I feel like I don't know what I'm doing."

"I think you're doing it pretty well, whatever it is."

Harry laughs, and Louis has got him charmed. Wrapped around his little finger. He's his now again. All –"That's why it'll be really good to talk to Zayn, you know? He anchors me a bit. He gives good advice."

Zayn? As in, the Zayn who hates his guts and whose punch fucked up his jar? This is the man who is giving his views on who is more worthy? immaculate Nick or contemptible him?

"…Yeah. Great." Well.

Louis’ fucked. 

x x x

Zayn seeks him out.

He's just sitting in his studio, going through the list of costumers that will come by today, still so early in the morning and his radio is quiet enough that he hears the sharp "Hey!" clearly. The glass door rattles as Zayn tries to pull it open, but his place isn't officially open yet. Taylor and Bepo probably still asleep. Zayn calls out, "Hey! I need to talk to you! Don't you dare ignore me!"

Zayn keeps his head held high when Louis opens the door, and he marches in like a man coming onto a battlefield. "Yes, hello, good morning sunshine. Good to see you too." Louis says, rolling his eyes, but Zayn just huffs. "Sit down," Louis offers when they walk to the backroom. "You want a coffee?" he asks, and Zayn just nods. He sits down, and Louis gets a cup for him and fills it with freshly brewed coffee. He doesn't offer milk or sugar.

Louis sips his own coffee slowly. He's in no rush. That cocky arrogance Zayn always seems to carry around himself is gone – now he just seems unsettled. Harry's probably told him of his extramarital thoughts. Louis hopes that he has.

Zayn fingers whiten as he squeezes his cup too hard, looking thunderous. "I know it's you."

Louis looks across the table at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Of course it's fucking you," he sighs, leaning back in his chair in defeat. "You just couldn't let him go, could you? And don't think I haven't asked him about it. I have over and over again, all winter and spring, and he's told me you two have nothing to do with each other, and I wanted to believe him, I did, but – All the proof I need is the way he says your damn name." Zayn looks around hopelessly. Harry is his best friend, but the way Zayn talked to Nick at the wedding, and how worried he was, showed that he considers Nick to be a friend of his too. And now Harry had said... Louis doesn't know what exactly. That there is an option.

That he considers Louis an option again. Of course Zayn is fucking pissed.

Zayn looks at him long and hard. "Have you two fucked yet? Harry says no. But he also said he doesn't feel anything for you anymore."

Louis laughs in surprise. "No. Though it's none of your business."

"But you kissed. That's enough." He rubs his face tiredly. "Shit." Zayn leans over the table and looks him straight in the eye. "You have to leave them alone."

"What if Harry doesn't want to be left alone?"

"He does! You just – You don't get it. You think you can come in and out of his life as you please, but you fuck it up. You fuck him up. Nick on the other hand –"

"Oh, please," Louis interrupts, because the last thing he needs is a rant on Nick's virtues and his vices.

"He can't say no to you. He never could," Zayn says slowly like it's taking extra effort to make him understand this. "Louis, you fucked him over that winter. You used him and then you just threw him away. Do you have any idea what a mess he was after that? After you? Of course you don't, because you weren't there. Well, I was."

"I was confused and I did a wrong thing! I know that now." Louis reminds him, getting angry of being accused.

"He'd fallen for you fucking hard, and you treated him like a lap dog, and now he's considering you again? Over my fucking dead body." Zayn hisses angrily, and Louis’ words of protest die in his throat. His insides feel heavy and paralysed all of a sudden. Zayn stares at him angrily and then with slight disbelief. "You didn't know he was in love with you?"

"He said –" Louis starts, but there is nothing he can really say to talk himself out of it. He knew. "Alright. He said it, yes. I didn't take it serious. I thought he had just a silly crush and-"

"You knew how he felt about you. And then you just left him. You just left him in a fucking mess and carried on with your life. You spat him out and never fucking looked back."

"That's not how it happened. Don't think for a second you know how I felt back then or how I feel now."

"But it's true," Zayn insists. "Nick saved him. What did you do? Nothing. Fucking nothing."

"I'd call 'saving' Harry slightly dramatised."

"Really? Helping him to get into college, offering him to work at his place, getting his overly touchy boss off his back and helping him back on his feet? Yeah, maybe I am dramatising it," he says sardonically. He then breaks into a gigantic, sadistic grin when Louis says nothing in return. When he just stares. "Oh. You had no idea. Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, I knew Nick kind of picked him up again...but Harry's never talked about that time or –"

"Of course not! He's ashamed of it all, isn't he? It killed him to accept Nick's help, but Nick offered. Unconditionally," he adds, like unconditional is something Louis would never offer. "You are just a prick. You fucked Harry over when he'd fallen for you. And now you are here again, planning to do the same all over again, you're his weakness. He can't say no to you, but that doesn't mean he should ever say yes."

Not many men could call him a prick to his face and live to tell the tale. Not many.

He didn't know Harry had these problems, and he didn't know he got stuck in a job with a boss who… The thought of anyone touching him without his consent is enough to fill Louis with rage, but as far as he can see, none of that is his fault.

But he feels like it is.

"Tell me," Louis says quietly, his chest constricting. He needs to know. Harry won't tell him, and Nick will wonder if Louis starts asking questions. Zayn knows. "Just fucking tell me."

Zayn seems to consider this awhile, but then nods. Probably knowing that it will be unpleasant for him to hear. "He was a mess over you. He did the bit where he'd only talk about what an asshole you were, and then he did the bit where he only went to parties and slept around, and he did the bit where he was quiet and wouldn't speak to anyone. Then he started blaming himself for everything that happened. And he wasn't – He just wasn't getting better. He didn't care, really, about finding work or trying to pay rent, which only made it worse."

He keeps telling himself that Zayn is exaggerating this, editing history to guilt trip him. It's working. His throat feels tight, and nausea is pooling in his guts.

"And then he met Nick, and Nick fell for him instantly. Nick was only a one-night- stand at a party, though Nick wanted more, but Harry didn't want to date people, he was too messed up. When Nick found out about the mess Harry was in he offered to help him get things sorted. Nick said they could be friends if Harry wasn't interested." Zayn smiles obnoxiously when he knowingly adds, "It didn't stay platonic for very long."

For some reason, Louis’ jealousy feels worse than it usually is. The thought of that first time together, when he was still so fresh on Harry's mind. If he thought of him. If that's when he started not to think of him. If he did it out of obligation, or was he really attracted to Nick, or was it gratitude or love or –

"You know what the difference is between you and Nick?" Zayn asks, and Louis lifts a curios eyebrow. "Enlighten me."

"You're just trying to manipulate Harry. You were so nice to him, weren't you? So very nice, helping him out so much. Starting to act like you actually care. And you made Harry say things like 'Maybe he changed. Maybe he really changed' but you know what? You didn't change. You are still the same. You're only this nice to him because you expect things in return." Louis frowns. Because that's not true. He never did something like that, never expected anything but a 'thank you' in return.

"Nick loves him," Zayn says quietly, before Louis can voice his thoughts. "Nick is good for him. Nick doesn't fuck him up. Sure they have some problems too, but Harry's judgement is lacking when it comes to you. He might have forgotten how you used him, but I haven't. And you and I both know how it'd end, with his heart broken yet again. It's inevitable. Do you want to know why?" He stands up, clearly only to create the sense of towering over him. "Because you're a selfish asshole who's never cared about anyone but himself. So do everyone a favor and leave him be."

"I can't," Louis says simply, trying not to feel insulted that that's what Zayn thinks of him.

"Then I suggest that you figure out how. Because if you care about him at all, you'll put an end to it before it even starts."

Having said his piece, Zayn heads back out and leaves Louis feeling sick.

Zayn's so wrong about all of it. It started years ago, and it's still ongoing. There is no putting an end to it anymore, you can't put an end to something that's infinite.

Maybe Zayn's right about something, though. Maybe Nick fixed Harry for him. And there's so much Harry never told him.

So much he is holding against him.


	20. STARRY EYED

They are sitting in Harry's living room. On the couch. Louis feels uncomfortable. He has never been in their apartment, has only seen it from the outside. But now he's here...and it's...well.

Did they fuck on this couch? Did Nick say he loves him in this room? Did they cuddle and fall asleep in front of the Tv? Right here where Louis is sitting? The jealousy inside him makes him want to burn this place down. But he swallows it, focusing on Harry who sits next to him, looking nervous.

"So what did Zayn tell you?" Harry asks after a while. "He said he went to you a few days ago."

"Not important." Louis snorts, though it's not the truth. He got to him. Zayn fucking got to him. Zayn's words kept him from getting sleep the last few nights, kept him awake, ridden with guilt. "What did Zayn tell you?"

"That leaving Nick would be the biggest mistake of my life," he responds instantly. His cheeks have a faint blush on them now, but he's trying to shake it off.

"He only says that because he knows it's me."

"I know." He shakes his head slightly. "I tried denying it." He tries to say it like a good thing but it's not. If he's trying to choose between Nick and him but can't tell his best friend that he's involved with him, especially when Zayn really knows? That's not a good sign. "Zayn didn't have much good to say about you in general. Said you are not so good with the whole monogamy thing." Louis just hums. Can't really deny it. He cheated on Eleanor, didn't he? "Could you?"

Louis closes his eyes for a second because the light falling through the window is beginning to hurt. His hand is trembling, so he quickly snubs the cigarette in the ashtray, before Harry can see. "Could I what?"

"Be monogamous."

"I wouldn't cheat on you." he says honestly.

"How should I know that?" Harry answers quickly, "How can I trust you not to-" 

"I don't want anyone but you."

It's the truth.

They hold eye contact, and Louis wants to say 'Let's start now' – what the hell. But Harry hasn't made up his mind yet, and the wait is getting to him. Louis just wants him to say it already: that it's him. But Harry doesn't say anything, instead he tries to overplay this moment, leaning in to kiss him.

"Don't," Louis says, moving his head away, Harry's lips sliding across his cheek. "Not unless you've made up your mind."

He says nothing, certainly not exclaiming that he has made up his mind, he has, he has. Instead he says, "I thought you were going to give me time."

"Until you talked to Zayn. You have now."

He sighs heavily. Louis won't be a pushover for all times to come. He has shown patience. But now? He's out of patience. He's tired and his insides feel bruised and his body feels weak.  
Still, they need to talk about it. The things Zayn said. Because they are still in his mind, and he can't let it go. Lost sleep over it, lost his mind over it. He needs to know just how much Zayn was blowing out of proportion.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I don't want to push you... I'm just – Zayn messed me up. He said these things, and –"

"Okay. Alright." Harry cuts him off, fidgets. "What did he tell you?"

"Did Nick really let help you get into college?" Louis asks. Harry sighs in a 'here we go' way, but nods, jaw set tight. So that's true. "Did he offer you work in his place so you could pay rent?" Another nod, more reluctant than the first. Buying Harry's love and gratitude. So cheap. Louis would never stoop that low. "Where did you work after I left?"

"This gay club. Bartending." He shrugs dismissively.

"And did anyone..." Louis starts. This is the hardest question, but it's one that he has to ask. "Did anyone force themselves onto you?" Harry frowns at his question. "Did anyone ever?"

"No."

"No? Because Zayn said something about that club owner. I would kill him. You know that I would fucking kill him if he had." The anger in his guts is dark, darker than anything he has ever felt. If anyone hurt him like that, if anyone – And Louis can't even finish the thought, his brain short-circuiting. That part of him is too violent for him to want to connect with.

"You get a lot of arrogant guys in these kind of bars who think that anyone's up for grabs. I can fend for myself." Harry says, but he's avoiding his question and knows it. When Louis doesn't look away, he sighs. "My boss was a well-known perv who only hired pretty boys and smacked our asses when walking by. He tried to talk me into sucking him off once, that's it. I didn't, for the record," he adds, glancing at Louis like he could easily believe that he got on his knees for someone like that. "The comments were unpleasant, but I lived with it. Zayn exaggerates, you know that," he says, but does he really? Zayn's been giving him facts. Dramatizing them slightly, sure, but they're facts nonetheless. Louis would not even let suggestive comments slide, if someone came onto Harry after he's said no. Louis ignores Harry's 'no's all the time, okay, but that's because Harry doesn't mean them with him. Because Zayn said it, didn't he? That Harry doesn't know how to say no to him.

And that's because deep down, he doesn't want to.

"I didn't know. I didn't... mean to leave you in a mess like that," Louis says quietly.

"You were busy trying to pretend you are straight and still in love with your girlfriend," Harry says, which accurately recaps what Louis did.

"You know that I'm sorry." He feels like he should remind Harry of that."And if Nick... saved you." The words are bitter on his tongue. "If he helped you, then I owe him for that. Then I'm grateful that he was there for you when I wasn't. And I get that you feel indebted, I get that now. He's done so much for you. He gave you work, helped you back on your feet. And I get that it's hard for you to walk away from that, that you don't want to seem ungrateful, but... I'm back now. I'm here."

"And you think that's all there is to it?" he laughs. Yeah. Pretty much.

No one gets through life without breaking someone's heart.

He puts his hand on Harry's carefully, and Harry doesn't move away from him. "I would never do that to you again. I wouldn't."

Harry stares down at their hands like he's trying to process his words. "I don't think it's that simple," he says eventually. "I don't feel like... I can trust you."

"Try," Louis says softly. "I wouldn't let you down again."

Harry looks unsure, but if he's placed him as an option, like he has admitted that he has, then surely he's slowly beginning to trust Louis again. He just needs to keep proving it.  
God, he's so sick of waiting. "You should talk to Nick tonight." 

"About what?"

"Things you haven't told him. Like how I'm the one paying for your college, how it's me that gave you this hickey on the side of your neck. How about that?"

Harry doesn't answer, he opens his mouth as if to say something. But then just looks overwhelmed with the situation. Louis should let it be, but he can't. Frustration boiling hot in his stomach. And he can't help but stare at him a bit angrily, before he breaks and snaps, "Why the fuck are you stringing me along?"

"I'm n –"

"You are. I feel like some fucking chick. I want you. I keep waiting for you."

"It's not easy for me!" he objects. "No matter what I do at this point, I'll hurt Nick, and he doesn't deserve –"

"I don't deserve this!" The exclamation is draining, and Harry looks hurt by his comment. Louis squeezes his hand to keep up the illusion of having a hold on him, but Harry pulls his hand back instantly. He ducks his head. "Why are you so afraid of letting me touch you?" Louis asks quietly, studying his alarmed and confused expression.

"I'm not."

"You are. It's all sunshine and roses if you touch me, like you don't think that messes me up, but you won't even let me..." Louis trails off, angered. Harry seems restless and tense, and he sighs, defeated and he moves as if to leave, but Louis grabs his wrist firmly, tightening the hold so much that it's got to hurt. Harry's eyes meet his – still worried and unsure, but beneath that... wishing and hoping, thinking and praying. 

"Louis." His tone is warning. Louis knows he's confused.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Louis whispers, in order to test him – and it works. Harry doesn't move away. He stares at him in a mix of fear and fascination, like he wants to see this through but is terrified of what it'll mean. Louis leans in slowly, with plenty of time for Harry to protest or claim that this isn't what he wants. He tilts his head, lets his lips hover over his. His shallow breathing washes over Louis’ lips, and his eyelids have fluttered shut. He's waiting with baited breath.

Their lips press together, dry and gentle. His lips are soft in the way that Louis remembers, as intoxicating as they ever have been. Harry trembles. Louis pulls back, then, because he's the one who should be shivering. 

"Harry?" Louis asks quietly. Harry's breathing fast, blinking too much, cheeks too red. Louis cups his cheek, his thumb brushing over his cheek bone. "Hey."

Harry swallows hard, eyes cast downwards. "I just feel so..." His hand lifts to carefully touch Louis’ hair, hesitating. His fingers are trembling. "Torn open. Whenever you touch me." He meets Louis’ gaze reluctantly.

"Why is that a bad thing?" Louis asks, trying to figure out if this means the same thing for both of them, if a kiss is just a kiss, or if it's so much more than that. If, for Harry, it's a promise. Harry's eyes flicker between Louis’ eyes and his lips, like he shouldn't, but then he makes a decision. He decides. And when Harry leans in and kisses him, Louis clutches his arm and pulls him closer, lying back down, pulling him on top, and let them fall into each other.

Their movements are unrushed like they have forever, and exploratory like they've never touched each other before. Louis moves on top of him on the couch and pins Harry beneath him. Their bodies press together, and Louis yearns to be closer than this. Harry's pliant, responding but not initiating. That's fine with Louis. He kisses him hungrily, like he's trying to recover a hidden truth from Harry's lips.

Louis palms him through his jeans, working him up slowly, feeling his cock getting harder and harder until the outline of his erection is bulging, running along his left thigh. He kisses the hollow of Harry's throat and squeezes his cock. Harry jerks and says his name restlessly. It's music to his ears.

"Louis, maybe we shouldn't," Harry breathes out, his voice rough. "Maybe we..."

Louis unzips him, pushes Harry's shirt up, and kisses his navel slowly. Harry swears and says, "Oh god, oh Christ," and Louis kisses his way down to his lower stomach, his nose brushing his skin. He yanks his jeans and underwear down to his knees, and his cock is suddenly vertical and in front of him. Harry's hard. He is really fucking hard.

Harry helps him getting his jeans off the rest of the way, kicking his legs. Louis’ hands run up his bared shins to his knees, pushing them apart. Harry still got his shirt on, his flushed cock against the maroon.

Nick's at work right now. And his boyfriend is in front of him, spread out beneath him, gorgeous and beautiful and having made a decision.

Louis feels so full of emotions that he can't stand it. It all swells up and burns and scorches and soothes, urgent and calm at the same time. He can't stop touching him, feeling him react and suck in air. He kisses his hipbones, pushing his shirt up, feeling his cock brushing against his own shirt. When he bites down on Harry's skin, Harry's hands move to his hair. His hips shift so restlessly, and the sounds that he makes burn into his memory. He'll never be able to forget.

Louis gets the lube out of his jeans pocket and Harry lifts an eyebrow but doesn't comment on it. Whatever. Louis’ always wishing and thinking and Harry fucking knows it. Carrying lube around seemed to be a smart choice, afterall. He moves up on the couch to capture Harry's swollen lips. Harry's been biting on them. He kisses back fervently, fisting his hair. "Louis, fucking hell," he says, and he trembles, but that's okay, that's alright, Louis got this all figured out. He sort of does. He thinks. He settles down in front of him, keeping eye contact with him when he reaches down with lube covered fingers. Harry spreads his legs willingly, his eyelids fluttering shut. Louis’ wet fingers reach between his legs, over his perineum and to his hole. His mouth drops open when Louis touches him there. He bucks his hips. "Please."

He's so beautiful when he asks.

Louis pushes two fingers into him, staring down at him, the planes of his body, his arm reaching down between Harry's legs. He's tight and hot around his digits, tighter than Louis thought, and he leans down to kiss his cheek and he thanks his lucky stars. It's been a while for him. Thank god. Thank god because the thought of Nick getting to see him like this drives him mad. Louis kisses him hungrily, but Harry's too busy trying to breathe for it to work. His pupils are blown, and he's staring at the ceiling, face flashing with bliss, showing everything he feels as Louis fingers him. All the pleasure and how intense it is. He clutches his shoulder like a drowning man at a straw.

Their mouths move over each other's, wet and slow. Harry reaches down to slowly stroke his cock.

"Could do this for hours," Louis tells him, pushing his fingers in deeper. Harry jerks and moans. "You want a third?"

"Fuck," Harry hisses. Louis crooks his fingers, and Harry lets out a helpless groan, going so slack on the couch even as his body is full of unreleased energy. He presses kisses to Harry's mouth. The room gets filled from their heavy breathing and from the wet sounds Louis’ fingers make when they push into him.

"I want you," Harry sighs.

Louis brushes his head against Harry's. "Want me to what?"

"Want you to kiss me," he says, and Louis kisses him. So utterly incapable of not kissing him. "Want you inside me."

Louis closes his eyes. His heart skips a beat. Fuck.

"Yeah," Louis breathes out, crooking his fingers again before pulling them out.

Please. Please, please, please.

They kiss fiercely as Louis unbuckles himself with shaking hands, and Harry's hands are on his fly, zipping him down. Harry pulls at his clothes until they get his pants and underwear down. Louis has been so patient, for years, but now a desperate urgency fills his bones. Harry pulls him closer, having decided to participate, and they kiss as Louis moves on top of him, moves between Harry's legs that he spreads wide.

Louis’ mostly dressed, his pants and underwear down to his knees and that's it. It doesn't matter. Harry must feel the urgency of it too, the need to be one being, one entity. Harry's hand is between them, guiding Louis to his hole. He groans against Louis’ mouth, to the tune of 'please', and Louis will, of course, baby. His body tenses up when the sensitive head of his cock pushes against Harry's entrance. They are pressed together otherwise, stomach to stomach and chest to chest, and Louis kisses his jaw and his neck, full of emotions no one's been able to name yet. Harry's restless and willing and his, finally. Louis slowly pushes forwards. He loves the resistance there, his little gasp, loves the way he can thrust his hips and get Harry to open up for him, the way he feels.  
Harry clutches the back of his neck, nails digging in. "Oh god, oh fuck," he slurs like he can't stand it. He's tight. Nothing feels like this. Nothing ever felt like this.

Harry lets out a gorgeous, high pitched 'ah' when Louis’ finally all the way in. He pulls back slowly, feeling the drag, and then pushes back in again. Another gasp. It's too intense to take, and Louis swears heavily and moves to suck on Harry's neck, starts to work on a bruise, the kind that he won't be able to hide, just over his vein, to kiss the life in his blood. And it'll be there and obvious and everyone will see it, and they both know it, but Harry lets him.

Marks, scratches. Telltale signs.

He never let Harry put as much as a bruise on him when he was with Eleanor, too scared of her seeing what he's done, but Harry lets him. Harry cranes his neck further, letting out restless gasps, small whimpers. He lets him.

Louis finds the right angle that's so familiar and sweet and hot, most of all hot. Harry's bucking up to meet his thrusts. The movement starts from his hips, rippling the skin of his stomach, Louis’ cock sinking into him further when he offers himself. The pace is steady, impatient. When Louis pushes in really fucking hard, Harry groans, head tilting back because it hurts just right. Louis tries to get in deeper than ever before, and Harry's thighs fall apart further because he wants it.

Louis’ shirt is clinging onto his back from the sweat that is building up, and he finally decides that it's in the way. He halts for a second, buried so deep in him, and tries to undo his shirt with one hand. Harry tries to catch his breath and moves to help with clumsy fingers. He's sweaty and flushed, and his muscles squeeze around Louis steadily, so wired up. Stupid shirt, stupid buttons –  
They push his shirt out of the way, and then Harry's hands are on his bare back, his uncovered shoulders, his chest, touching the lines of his tattoos with hot fingertips. His touches flow straight to Louis’ heart, making it hard to breathe.

Harry's touch feels like a claim.

"Harry," he whispers, and then, "Harry, Harry." He falls back into him, finding a rhythm again, kissing him wherever he can reach. Their hips move hard, and Harry's skin is salty everywhere. Everywhere. "I love you," Louis says when their lips brush together. He fucks him harder, now feeling the tip of Harry's leaking cock against his lower stomach. Sweat rolls down his back, down the curve of his spine. It's hot and hard, their bodies slamming together. "I love you," Louis says again because it's the only coherent thought running through his head, it's all he can fucking feel.

Harry nods, then, pressing their lips together. He nods frantically, and Louis grabs his hips and fucks him harder, taking him like Harry wants him to. His moans turn into loud gasps, a repeated "Oh god, oh god, Louis". Harry pulls on him hard enough to bruise his arms. The couch moves, and Harry reaches between them to touch himself.

Harry bites his neck, muffling himself, his body drawn up so tight as he's about to come. Louis quickly pulls on his hair to pull him back, to see him, and he just catches the moment his pupils get blown and his mouth drops open. He comes hard, back arching, come spilling between them. His muscles grip onto his cock in a way that should hurt, but he only fucks the tight heat, pleasure radiating up and down his spine.

"Shit, you're so-"

So special, so fucking special.

Harry's still coming when Louis follows. The climax hits him hard, and he freezes above Harry although his hips keep thrusting. His loud groan is graceless, awed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to come so deep inside him, wants to fill him up. He rides it out, erratic, uncoordinated thrusts. Harry trembles beneath him, fisting his cock, his knuckles white with come, and Louis collapses on him. They breathe into each other's mouths.

It lasts for a long time, and they both die a little. Louis doesn't understand this. He can't.

He presses their mouths together. Harry tastes like him. His hands move to his shoulders, then wrap around his neck.

When Louis looks at him, he looks different. He has never seen this look in Harry's eyes before. His pupils are so, so blown, like something has shifted, and he feels closer. Like the look in his eyes is the core beyond dozens of walls, the ones Louis’ spent so long trying to smash down.

Harry buries his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, and Louis feels him shivering. He shifts to lie on his side, keeping Harry in his arms. His cock slides out of him, and Harry lets out a small gasp against his skin. Louis wraps his arms tight around him, carding his hair. Harry trembles, trying to breathe out evenly.

"I'm here," Louis whispers. He's here, he's here. Harry's shaken up, and Louis doesn't fully understand any of this, but that's okay. He's here, and it'll be okay. They'll figure it out together.  
Louis’ skin feels wet where Harry's hiding his head. Sweat. Maybe. Maybe not.  
Louis won't call him out on it. 

x x x

"Come on," He tells Harry, nudging him into the taxi. They have decided to go out drinking. Him and Harry. Meeting Kendall and Ashton for drinks. Louis is walking on clouds these days.  
They greet them at their table at the new bar downtown, and Louis smiles into his glass when he looks at Harry from the side. He loves seeing that bruise on his neck. He can't hide it. He tried the popped collar approach, the scarf approach, Louis’ pretty sure he put make up over it, but Nick saw it. He saw it, and it fills Louis with intense joy, even if Harry claimed that Nick himself left it there. Doesn't matter. Louis knows he did.

Louis doesn't think Harry knows if Nick bought it or not. Louis doesn't think Nick knows if he bought it or not. 

Kendall and Ashton are getting to know each other a bit better, discussing they way they met Louis, because yeah. Maybe that's the only thing they have in common. That they know him. He knows Kendall is Ashton's type though, so maybe Louis can manage to hook them up.

Harry seems tense, glancing around almost guiltily. Louis yearns for him. He places his hand on Harry's knee.

Harry's hand moves over his own, and warmth spreads inside him. Small touches, small looks. He lifts his hand off, however, his shoulders tense. Louis doesn't let go of his hand, looking at him questioningly, and his eyes dart towards Ashton and Kendall in a 'people, Louis' way, clearly alarmed.

What does it matter?

A strand of hair has fallen in front of his eyes, and Louis reaches over to brush it aside. His eyes widen in almost horror. "Would you stop?" he asks so quietly that Louis can barely hear him.

"Why would I?" Louis counters, and when he tries to say something in return, he captures his lips in a kiss. Harry's not expecting it, and he stills perfectly. Louis kisses him softly, a hey and good morning and goodnight, I love you and god, I didn't get to kiss you yesterday. Their noses brush together when Louis pulls back, contentment buzzing inside him steadily, filling him with something he doesn't think he has ever felt: purpose. He wraps an arm around Harry's waist, pulling him slightly closer to him on the seat. Harry looks startled, and when Louis finds the ability to not gaze at him dreamily, he notices that Kendall and Ashton are staring at them.

"What?" he asks.

"Uh, nothing?" Kendall says, but her voice is shrill and her eyes are wide. It occurs to Louis that he didn't tell her yet. That Harry is about to chose him. Louis should pay for the next round to celebrate.

"No, not nothing," Ashton now says, sounding irritated. He looks between them, his eyes brooding beneath knitted eyebrows. "Aren't you still dating Nick?" his disapproval is aimed at Harry.

Who remembers the past? It's all gone now. No, no, they are not remembering those things.

"Fuck," Harry breathes out, barely audibly.

"Back off," Louis barks, annoyed that Ashton's getting to his boy, who's now as stiff as a board and is intently staring at his shoes with reddened cheeks.

"So...what now? Are you guys dating or something? Secretly?" Kendall asks, though she does seem kind of happy for him. At least she does. Ashton doesn't seem to handle this so well.  
Harry's worrying on his bottom lip. Louis’ gaze fixes on it for a second – god, his lips – but then he smiles at him warmly. "Get used to it. Once all of our friends know they will probably get annoying about it."

"Oh," Ashton says. "Is it going to be official?" Something in his tone is mocking, and Louis shoots daggers at him. "Shouldn't someone, you know, tell Nick?"

Harry stiffens further next to him, and Louis eyes Ashton angrily. "This is where you don't say another word. It only concerns us."

Harry's deadly silent, and fuck Ashton for being a cunt.

"I'm sorry!" Ashton throws his hands up, "I just want you guys to be happy. And if that's what you are then I'm glad you found each other again."

"Me too." Kendall grins, and Louis smiles back, because he knows she means it. She has been rooting for him, after all. "You guys are seriously so cute! Want me to take a picture?"

"Seriously?" Harry asks, but Kendall is already fiddling with the phone in her hands, and Louis doesn't have to think twice about leaning in and kissing Harry's cheek quickly when Kendall snaps a foto.

"Well, isn't that fucking cute." A female voice says, and Louis’ blood freezes.

Of all the people in the world, of all the damn people in the world Louis didn't want to see tonight, it has to be the only person he actually never wanted to meet again in his entire life.

It's Eleanor.

Standing there, in front of their table, is Eleanor. She looks like he remembers, only a bit more happy, a bit more expensive. Her hair is pinned up messily, in a way Louis knows she does when she doesn't want to look as if she's trying too hard. Her outfit is pretty. She is pretty. A big ring on her ring finger, and Louis chokes out a "Eleanor...I-"

"So you did crawl back to him after all..." She smiles, though it comes off rather twisted. "Tell me Harry, did you at least make him beg for it?"

Harry looks overwhelmed with the situation, but then just shrugs. Louis thinks Harry just doesn't know what to say. Ashton and Kendall are looking at them a bit wide-eyed. And Louis thinks he has never been in a situation more awkward.

"How are you doing, Eleanor? Are you here alone?" he asks then, if only to be polite.

"Oh no, I'm here with my husband, he's waiting at the bar and...I'm good. Really good." Louis doesn't know if it's coincidence or not but she's practically shoving her ring in his face. He gets it, he gets it. Someone took the step he never would have taken. He isn't sorry about it either. But she's smiling right now, a real and wide smile and Louis is sure that she is honest with him at least. It's good for her, if she's happy. Louis wishes her the best.

"What about you guys?"

"Yeah. We're kind of great, actually." And the second Louis says it, he realizes it's true. They are. It's all lined up for the future – Harry will break up with Nick, move in with him, maybe, they'll figure it out. And he must get this stupid smile on his face because Eleanor looks slightly flabbergasted and then laughs disbelievingly, in a deprecating way.

"Well," Eleanor says eventually. Her smile looks forced. "Congratulations, Harry. Looks like you've won the grand prize."

Harry doesn't say anything, picking on a lose thread of his jeans. He doesn't need to say something.

Louis knows there has never been any competition anyway.


	21. MY BLOOD

He loves his work, he truly does. But today he's just too impatient to be tattooing people. But it doesn't matter, if Harry, Kendall and the others are waiting for him, he will be damned if a tattoo he creates turns out anything but perfect. Still it takes longer than he thought and the guy is babbling about something, kind of ruining Louis’ concentration. He isn't too focused right now, but it's fine. 

He just misses Harry.

So he's already running late, when the guy finally leaves, all tattooed up and Louis closes his shop. He takes the train to the bar, and wishes that he took his car to work this day. He said he will tattoo him until he's done. He should have said that's it's closing time and kick the guy out.  
Kendall sees him coming, and she tries to smile kindly but Louis can tell that she's annoyed that Louis let her wait. "Nice of you to show up," she hisses.

"Sorry. Work took longer." He answers, shrugging and ordering her a drink as a apology. She looks satisfied with that.

"Where are the others?" Louis asks. "Where's Harry?"

He misses him. It's stupid because he saw him this morning when he came around to give Taylor a ride, and he briefly talked to him yesterday on the phone, and he kept seeing him sometimes, at his place, or at his own, but it's – God, it's not enough. It hasn't been enough. He comes up with all kinds of little things to miss all the time, like that small mole on his lower back or the way he moves his fingers or his even breaths when he sleeps, it's stupid, so stupid and so consuming, and Louis loves every second of it.

He has never felt this way about him before.

Well, he has. He probably has. But it was always confused and muddled, and things...Eleanor... were in the way.

Not anymore.

Kendall clears her throat slightly. "Well. They were here earlier, but. There was some drama, so." She shrugs.

"Drama?"

She looks like she doesn't want to say but then concedes. "Harry and Nick were fighting. Apparently in front of everyone, I don't know, maybe they broke up or something. I guess that's your doing, huh?" Louis hears 'they broke up', and he strings those three words together, and his chest expands and light fills up the universe. He opens his mouth, but she says, "I really don't know. Don't ask me, I wasn't here. Robin said that Nick went back to Cowell's, and the others decided to go out gambling instead. I thought I would wait for you. I don't know where Harry is. And it doesn't matter right now, because you so need to pay for like...five more drinks, to make it up to me." She grins a bit.

"Sure thing," Louis says, winking at her. Sure, sure thing. Fuck. Finally.

Nick, of course, objected to being dumped, and Harry said quite firmly that no, no, it's over now, it's all over, in front of everyone, and they all know now.

Today's the day to make him his.

The five drinks are quickly ordered and time flies by, and he steadily drinks beer. The alcohol hits him harder than it usually would, and he thinks about Harry, who isn't here so where is he? At Nick's and his former apartment, gathering his stuff maybe? That. Louis likes that. Louis’ got a big bed, they can share it.

God, he'll cover Harry in a thousand kisses when he sees him.

When they leave the bar, Kendall asks, "Are you going to his place now?" 

"Yeah."

How can he not? How can he fucking not?

It's close to midnight, and Louis heads out to Harry's apartment in slight annoyance because Harry and him should be celebrating by now.

He stands in front of the door and it inches forwards when he presses against it a bit, not even locked. Thanks for the invitation there, door.

"Hello?" he asks, walking in. It's easy to spot Harry sitting on the edge of the couch. A fluttery sensation buzzes in Louis’ guts. Funny that the light isn't on, so he switches it on for him. "Hey. Hi." Hey, gorgeous. Hey, hey, hey. "I've been looking for you." The sudden overflow of love and affection and want would be sickening if Louis weren't the one feeling it. "Kendall gave me the news," he tells Harry with a big grin, slightly confused by Harry not moving or even acknowledging Louis, but sitting still like a statue. "We should go out to celebrate."

"God, it's been a fucked up day," Louis sighs. "So much work to do, there was one girl that came in and wanted me to tattoo her tits. It was crazy. "  
Harry finally looks up at him, and Louis laughs. "Don't you worry, hey, I've only got eyes for you." Louis sits down next to him on the couch. "In fact I can't wait to fuck you tonight," he purrs, leaning in to bite Harry's earlobe, nuzzle him, ravish him, laugh into his hair. But Harry pulls back in what is clearly rejection.

Louis frowns, trying to comprehend this unexpected move. "Hey." He looks at him – properly, at last.

Something in his heart shatters. His good mood gets killed instantly.

Harry's been crying. His eyes are red and puffy, and his cheeks still look wet. He's been here, crying.

A sharp pain twists Louis’ insides. "Hey, hey, hey," he rushes out soothingly, moving closer, a hand instantly moving to his hair as he feels too worried to breathe. Harry flinches at his touch, tensing up instead of relaxing into it. "Talk to me."

Harry takes in a sharp, uneven breath. He wipes his cheeks and blinks hard like he might start crying again. He's staring at his knees, apathetic. When he speaks, he becomes misery: "I think he's going to leave me."

Louis stares. "Nick?" he clarifies, and Harry gives him the smallest of nods. Okay. Sure. "Well... yeah," Louis says, trying not to add 'are you stupid?' Harry's not stupid, of course not. "How did you think he'd react when you told him about us?"

"I didn't," Harry corrects, and suddenly Louis’ the one who's stupid. But Kendall said... Louis thought. "Not that anyway. I told him how you are paying for my college, how you offered it to me, how I had sex with Zayn even though I said there has never been anything, and he accused me of cheating which I didn't confirm but I-" he says, letting out an anguished laugh. "I wanted to – be honest with him. But he got so mad, Louis. He got so mad." He shakes his head and looks around the room. "I didn't realize..."

Louis follows his gaze, and all of these obvious things are now coming into focus, things he somehow missed when he sauntered in. Like the fact that the room is a mess and that their shit is everywhere – not in that absent kind of careless way, but in a shit-has-been-thrown-around way. Like maybe Nick...

Maybe that's why Harry's upset. He wasn't expecting Nick to blow up at him.

"So he left you," Louis says, trying to figure it out. Harry told him about his lies, and Nick left him. "Well... that's good. You didn't even have to be the bad guy." It's actually kind of genius, but Harry pulls in a rattled breath like he's about to burst into tears. "We can – We can lay low for a while and then, say, a month from now we can tell a select few that we're together," Louis says in confusion, trying to get him to cheer up already. "You don't have to tell him about us or our past. If you don't want to hurt Nick or something."

"But I have," Harry says instantly. "I already have." And he begins pulling in air sharply, almost hyperventilating.

"Hey, calm down." Louis tries to hug him, but Harry doesn't want to be hugged, pulling away from him instead with a shake of his head. "Baby, what's the matter? This is what we wanted."

"No," he says sternly. "It's what you wanted. Not me. I didn't want this." 

"I know it feels bad right now, but we can be together now, we can –" 

"Stop," he says, shaking his head more vigorously.

"But –"

"Stop it!" He seems angry, dangerous flashes of hurt in his brown eyes. "You think I can just do this to Nick and not look back? Zayn was right, I've made such a fool out of him. I've humiliated him. All the things I have kept to myself. And now it's all a mess, and you didn't see how hurt he got, how upset he was." He sounds angry at himself more than at him. "God, everything's so wrong. I have to talk to him. I have to set things right." His tone sounds desperate and urgent.

"But they are right," Louis argues in utter confusion.

"They're not. They're really not." Harry stands up, wiping his cheeks once more, trying to pull himself together. His hands drop to his sides, and he breathes in deep, and he doesn't look at Louis but beyond him somehow, like he's seeing him in a different place than where he is. "I can't handle this. Every time you- you kiss me or touch me, or even look at me, I can't deal with it. I just can't do this. I'm sorry."

Louis tries to ignore how Harry's words feel like a kick to his guts. "...What?"

"And I'm sorry if I've led you on," he then adds, like he's listing things, things that have been on his mind while he was sitting here in the dark. He won't look at him. "But I can't." He looks pained.

"But why?" Louis asks, his voice trembling. Harry's words make no sense to him.

"Because we'd…" He pauses. Yeah. Yeah, there is no adequate explanation. "We'd crash and burn, you know that we would. It's like a drug, what you and I are feeling. And yeah, it's powerful and all-consuming, and it's addictive. But it wears off. It'll stop getting us high, and it will tear us apart instead because that's what drugs do. It's not real."

That's not what he's supposed to say. That's not what he's supposed to even think. "We're not a... temporary high," Louis says in utter confusion. "We're real. We're  
–"

"There is no we!" Harry then barks, sounding frustrated, transforming from something Louis wants to protect into something Louis should protect himself from. "You keep doing these crazy things like kissing me in front of your friends, and you just – And what do you think is going to happen next? I leave Nick, and we live happily ever after? Like it's that easy? I will just break Nick's heart and walk away? Like you did to me?! This is killing me! I can't just not care for Nick anymore! You keep expecting things, you keep saying these things, but your idea of real is nobody else's idea of real, and you've never understood that!"

"I keep expecting things because you give me reason to," Louis says quietly, anger suddenly emerging at the pit of his stomach. Maybe he has gotten carried away with his feelings for him. Maybe. But he can't help it, god, when he sees him, he just can't help but keep touching him. And Harry thinks that's a bad thing.

"I know I've led you on," Harry says again, looking guilty. "But I make mistakes, Louis. That's what I do. I make one mistake after another, and I didn't – I didn't mean to make you think that we... I just wasn't sure." He's trying so fucking hard not to look at him right now.

"How is that fair?" Louis asks desperately. How is that fucking fair?!

Harry whispers, "Nick's been the only good thing that's ever happened to me."

"That's not true," Louis says, standing up. "That's not how you feel," he insists stubbornly, desperately, trying to believe he's even hearing this. And he can't. They've been through this already, Louis walked away because he wasn't sure or something else as ridiculous, and where did they end up? Back in each other's arms, that's where. So they know now. They know that this is where they are meant to be, that it's not something they can fight. "You think you should feel like Nick is it because of what Zayn said, but you know that's not true. Don't let other people make you feel guilty about us. About what you feel. I know how you feel. And the other day, here on this couch, when we – I could feel you shaking after we were done," Louis says quietly, the memory of it too intimate to even repeat to him, but he will if he has to. The sex was intense. God, it's never been that intense. Harry looks lost and embarrassed, but he doesn't have to be feeling any shame with Louis. If what they feel gets to him that hard, that it leaves him shaking, that it makes him cry, then that's fine, and Louis will never tell anyone. If it cuts in too deep, then Louis will be there to tell him how much it scares him, like it scares Harry. They are in it together.

"That –" Harry begins and stops, voice shaking. He doesn't have the words. Louis was there, he can't fool him. He wipes his cheeks quickly, still looking guilty, so damn guilty.

"You tell me that wasn't real, that what we felt is something that can just wear off." The thought is ridiculous and insulting. How dare he?

"Sex isn't love." 

"Making love is love." 

"Don't –"

"Don't what?! What?!" Louis interrupt hims, staring him down. "How can you say we're a mistake? God, when I look at you, I can barely breathe!" Louis exclaims in desperation. "It's you. Harry, it's you." It always has been, and Louis’ slowly realizing that. "And now you're backing out? And for what? Because it got too real for you, because you feel bad? Sometimes you have to trample on others to get what you want! Nick's fucking insignificant, he's –"

Harry's expression changes from intimidated and confused to being very clearly defensive and foreboding.

Louis can't win this.

He takes a deep breath and tries to keep himself together, trying not to panic and burn. "You're scared, but you gotta trust me on this one. You have to." He's begging. Louis doesn't care.

"But you didn't see how hurt Nick was, you didn't –"

"I don't care how hurt he was!" Louis spits as the sickening truth slowly dawns on him, that Harry is not going to change his mind. That he wants to fix things with Nick. All of this, all this time, everything he and Louis have ever done, and when he's finally supposed to be his, he pulls back from the ledge. And Louis just doesn't know why. "I've waited, so I get to be selfish now! Fuck Nick! Fuck him, and fuck you two, and fuck it all!"

"You have to understand –"

"Fuck you!" Louis yells, his heart breaking. How dare he do this to him? Now? After everything? "Is this revenge?! Are you hurting me because I hurt you?! Is that what it is?! I love you with all of my fucked up piece of shit heart and you-"

"I'm sorry," Harry says, and then, "I'm so sorry." His eyes are full of remorse and pity, like that's supposed to make it better, like that fixes it somehow. He's so beautiful that it kills him. "I wish things hadn't gone this far, and it's not revenge, I would never want you to-"

"Shut the fuck up." Louis snaps, "I can't believe this."

He feels everything falling apart. Harry takes cautious steps back – Louis’ not the first man today to start having a go at him in this apartment, but Louis just and just manages not to start throwing shit around in primitive rage. He pulls on his hair and he swears and he clenches his fists, but he doesn't do it out of hate. "Why are you doing this to us?!" Louis asks desperately. His hands are shaking, an adrenalin rush coursing through his veins.

Harry has made up his mind.

"Things are never easy with us," Harry says slowly. "It'd blow up in our faces so quickly, Louis. And after the number I've pulled on Nick, I have to make that better. I'm too much of a mess to just jump from one bed to another, and –"

"Funny how being a slut has never stopped you before," Louis growls, thinking of the numerous times he's writhed beneath him, Louis having a girlfriend, Harry having a boyfriend. Excuses. Excuses, excuses, excuses.

Harry stares at him for a second, and then laughs disbelievingly, but mostly he looks like Louis has just slapped him and the laugh is a poor attempt to hide the pain. "And yeah. Then you would hurt me cause that's what you do best."

Louis bites on his tongue. God, he's an idiot, and god no, he would never hurt him, he wouldn't, he swears.

Harry and him could make each other better. Louis’ a better person with him around, can't he see that?

Louis says, "Hey, come on, I didn't mean that, I'm sorry, I –"

"No, you meant it." He wipes his cheeks again – and were those tears caused by Louis? Not Nick, but him? Louis doesn't want to – he just. It's not coming out right. "So maybe you can't... see it now," Harry says at length. He nods as if to convince them both. "But one day you'll be see that I was right."

But there never will be such a day.

And then Harry walks out of the room, to find Nick, to break someone else's heart, to busy himself not choosing him, and he leaves him.  
He leaves him.

He just doesn't choose him. It's that simple. Harry is just too good of a person to love him.

x x x

This is not him sitting at the bar, knocking back shots. This is some other person.

And Louis, well he's in his apartment, making love to the one person who has ever mattered.

This is a caricature of him, crude and wrong. This is what dying feels like. Right this.

"You always take things too hard," Ashton says quietly, watching Louis take another shot. "The rare times you're happy, you're happy, and when you're sad, you're really fucking sad."

"I don't know what you mean." His voice has an alcohol burn to it. He can't. He won't. Although Ashton knows. He saw him in that first stage of shock, so he knows, but that didn't actually happen.  
Because if it did, there's nothing. There's just – nothing.

His hands grip the scarf in his lab. Harry's scarf. Or his. It used to be his. And when he walked out of that apartment he saw it and thought...that it didn't belong there anymore. Nothing of him belongs to Harry anymore.

"Look," Ashton sighs, "Harry –"

Louis flinches at his name, and the wave of heat flashing inside is immediate. It burns to kill.

"Don't," he stops him, holding the shot glass in his fingers, dangling it. "I can't."

He closes his eyes and sees him, and he hears his voice and his laughter and the way he says his name when he smiles, and the way he says his name when he comes, and the way he says his name when he refuses him. And there's so much joy there and so much love, and then there's just –

Nothing.

And the horror of that realization is trying to catch up with him, but he's trying to outrun it.

He can't even think his name.

He stares into space, his chest feeling constricted. It'll hit him and tear him to pieces.

"I know that it hurts right now," Ashton says, like now they're talking about this, whether Louis likes it or not. "Love is a tricky thing," he says, and Louis can tell that he's launching into a speech.  
But really? It's 'tricky'? That's all he's fucking got? He's never loved.

Louis thought he finally had him.

And now everything's gone. Like it never even was there in the beginning.

Nothing Ashton says relates to him, although he tries with some poor ideas of not all couples being meant to be even if they think so.

"You don't want to be with someone who doesn't return your feelings. Trust me, I know."

"But he has to feel this," Louis says silently, staring at the table, eyes fixed to one spot. He has to. But if he felt this, felt what Louis is feeling, there would be no competition. If he felt this, he would not have been able to walk away.

So he never felt it.

And that's when the inexplicable pain rips his insides apart, that's when the tidal wave comes in. But where's the knife? Where's the wound? He looks fine on the outside, can walk down the street like he's just one of them, but he's screaming, still screaming, they just can't hear it, and he...

"Why didn't he choose me?" he asks quietly, his voice breaking. In his head, he's yelled it and he's cursed it and he's seethed it and he's screamed it, but now all that's left is a soft fucking question. "I know I'm not perfect, I know that I've... I've done a lot of wrong." He glances at Ashton because he's had a front row seat to so many of the shitty things he has done. "But I don't understand why. I thought we wanted this. I thought we..." And then he stops, wiping his cheeks with shaking hands. Not in public, some part of his brain tells him, the one clinging to dignity, but such luxuries have long been lost.

He takes in a rattling breath, and his eyes feel wet even as he tries to dry them. Ashton looks like he doesn't know what to do. Neither does he.

How could Harry let him in like that and then just push him back out? "You're better off without him, man."

"But I'm not."

It's over. And he can drink himself to a stupor, but then tomorrow it won't be any different, and not the day after that, and Harry won't be there anymore, and he misses him, he can't not be with him, and he wants him to go to hell. And Nick, that fucking Nick, he can't –

"I'm gonna beat up that fucking Nick Grimshaw. I'm gonna motherfucking beat him to a pulp, and then we'll see who's laughing." And then he laughs, his knuckles dripping blood, he sees it happening, blood, blood, blood, and no. No.

Harry would rush to his aid, pushing Louis aside. He has lost.

But he can't. He can't breathe. He can't think.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," he manages. "I keep- keep thinking it didn't happen. That I made it up. Because I can't be without him, Ashton, I don't know how to be without him. I don't know how, I don't –" he covers his mouth, shaking, trying to breathe, his vision blurred and he can't even pretend that the wet feeling on his cheeks aren't tears.

"Louis?" Ashton asks, tone alarmed, and then he speaks but Louis can't make it out. He's dying.

He swears that he's dying.

"What if," Louis laughs desperately, "what if he is making up with Nick right now? What if they're fucking fucking? I can't, I can't." he rubs his face, visions flashing in front of his eyes, and he hear his voice and he hears his groans, but not real, not real.

"Don't think of that, man."

But Ashton doesn't understand. He doesn't have the words to describe the way he feels, how it's thick, black liquid dripping inside him. How he wants to scream until his voice is gone, how he wants to trash the car, how dark it is, how angry he is, and Harry, Harry, Harry, his Harry, why would he do this to him?

Ashton was right. He takes things too hard. He takes things too close to the heart.

"You want me to be honest?" Ashton asks, and no, he doesn't. "It seems to me that you cared more for him than he did for you. So you think about that." He's lying. That's not true. Ashton's just jealous, like he always was. Ashton stands up then, ruffling his hair, "C'mon. Let's get going."

"No." Louis answers, staring at the empty glass in his hand, "I'm not done here. Go alone."

Ashton frowns, "C'mon, you are drunk and-"

"I said fuckin' leave" he snaps, because shit. Shit. Shit. Isn't anyone listening to him?! He closes his eyes when Ashton nods, and mutters "Text me when you are home." Yeah, yeah. Whatever. He won't feel guilty now.

What's Ashton trying to say anyway? That he was running after Harry, who reluctantly let himself be caught. Is that really how it was?  
Is that... really how it was?

As that disgusting thought eats its way inside of him, he shivers, his stomach churning. He thinks it's best to drink another shot, and when he does, cool liquid burning down his throat, he looks up and sees him.

The man who ruined his life.

His existence feels like a punch in the guts.

And Louis has been thinking that Harry spent last night making up to Nick in such vivid detail, winning Nick back over one kiss at a time, but... Nick is a fucking mess. Louis almost laughs. 

He's a fucking mess too.

Well done, Harry. Is this what you wanted?

Nick resembles a dead man. The dark circles around his eyes make him look older, and his eyes lack that cocky gleam of the earlier days. And he's not smiling. That's the biggest difference. Because even when he was tired, shit even when he just got out of the hospital, he'd smile, joke, Nick around.

Now he looks furious, sad and devastated.

Louis thinks it would be the best decision to leave now. To just let it go. But he can't. He can't. This is the man who ruined him. Who's at fault. And in his drunken mind it justifies somehow. Him going over, slapping Nick on the back, who looks at him slightly surprised and then angry. And Louis says;

"Trouble in paradise?"

Nick snorts, playing with the glass in his hand, and Louis sits down beside him. Nick doesn't know he knows. Nick doesn't know anything. And really, Harry is just playing him for a fool.

"You've been paying for his college." Nick says, his voice sounds thick and muffled, like it's hard to admit that someone else was willing to help Harry even if he wasn't. "I'm not angry with you," Nick shakes his head now, "I'm not. I just-" he swallows "Just wish he would talk to me more."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "Is that it?"

Because that's not really what Nick has thrown shit around in his apartment for, right? Nick grumbles something. And Louis waits. Nick sighs then, debating whether or not Louis is the right person to talk about this and Louis is growing impatient.

"Spit it out, then."

Nick's confided in him before, so it only makes sense in his head. Louis doesn't care. He won't sympathize. Nick looks pale and sick as he slumps in his chair. "I think he's cheated on me," he says quietly.

God. Really?

Who would have thought that?

"Oh." A hint of shock and sympathy in his tone. Fucking perfect. He'll tell him right now: I fucked him. I did it. Me, me, me, me. "He has cheated on you."

"Well, I have no proof," he says before Louis gets to the punch line. That's disappointing. "But his stories don't add up. And little things all of a sudden, like sometimes he's smelled like... someone else. Or times when he disappeared for a day or an afternoon, but I just thought that his explanations made sense, but they don't. They didn't. And I don't know how many men he's been... But then what if it's all in my head, but I just – God, I'm going insane!" he laughs like a man who, well. Is going insane.

Which is actually more entertaining.

"You think you know someone," Nick says, instantly going for another shot. He drinks it down in one go. He wipes his mouth, cringing. "You think you really know someone, you know? But then it's all just lies, and you realize that you don't even fucking know who you're sharing your bed with. And he is sorry, I know, he is so sorry, but if it makes him feel that bad, why did he lie in the first place? Fuck. He said Zayn is just his best friend, that they didn't...but they had. They did. That's pretty bad, right? When you don't even know who your boyfriend is having sex with, when you don't even know if anything he ever said was true."

He's vomiting it all out, it seems. He's working his way through the shots efficiently.

"He's not giving me the truth. I fucking know it." He scoffs bitterly. "He thinks we can just go back to the way we were? He is wrong. He is fucking wrong. He either spits it all out, or we're done. I'm not putting up with that anymore." He silences and finishes a mini gin.

"You shouldn't put up with it." Louis says. 

"I know!" he exclaims.

"He's just stringing you along."

"God, I know." He sighs heavily and rubs his face tiredly. "I still love him, though." Louis grits his teeth. God, Nick is so stupid. What does he know about love? If he loved Harry he would be there and not here drinking at the bar with Louis. He would try to make up with Harry. Like he did.

How dare Nick think that he deserves him in the first place?!

"And..." Nick starts, and Louis watches how he balls his fists, "If I ever find that poor bastard that touched him, I'm gonna kill him, I fucking swear I will."

He should tell Nick. That it was him. Louis has been wanting to punch this guys face in since he saw him for the first time. His hands are itching. He wants to.

Louis should pretend that that tiny thought did not enter his head, but it did. And...

This is the biggest joke of all. This will be funny, something to write home about. This is where he gives them all the finger, where he gets the last laugh. Because if he spills, Louis is sure that Nick and Harry will be over. Completely.

Nothing to save there, anymore.

He would be there every time they are together, making love to Harry on Nick's couch, his ink on his arm, his touch on Harry's skin. And they would break apart, they wouldn't stand it.  
Louis doesn't think of Harry or what this would do to him or them because no, no, he murdered them.

"I should better start running then." Louis says, the words are over his lips before he even realized what he even said, but he doesn't regret. He doesn't. Harry killed them. It's only fair.

"What did you say?" Nick asks, his voice is small, trickled with disbelieve and his eyes are wide. He puts the shot down that he was just about to drink and turns towards Louis.

"You heard me." Louis says, and he stands up. He's amused by this whole situation. Watch him break them completely.

This is good. This is a brilliant idea. He'll do this one his way.

Nick stands up as well. He seems tense. Good. Good. The prospect of a fight makes Louis sober up so fucking quickly that it makes his head spin.

"Don't fuck with me, I'm not in the mood for-"

"I'm not." Louis answers. Anticipation is killing him. He sees the way Nick's fist clench, and Louis should be a bit afraid. Because Nick is taller than him, probably stronger, but Louis can't bring himself to give a fuck. This not about hurting Nick, them, physically anyway. It's about destroying their chance to ever be a couple again. "I fucked him. He asked me for it."

It hurts Louis to even say it. It wasn't fucking, it wasn't fooling around. If it were just that it wouldn't hurt him so much.

"It's not a lie." Nick states, like he is realizing Louis is not fucking around, but he still looks disbelieving. "You are not...you are not lying to me."

He just shakes his head, and he sees Nick's eyes flash dangerously and Louis braces himself for Nick's flying fist.

It comes with a sick sound of knuckles meeting skin, and the exciting buzz of pain that tells Louis, that he's still alive, even when his insides feel dead. He doesn't even really feel it, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he stumbles backwards a bit, holding his nose. He feels something wet on his hand and sliding over his lips.

Just when Louis is ready to have a go at Nick they get interrupted. "Hey!" the bartender shouts, "If you two wanna fight, do it outside! I will call the cops!." Nick glares at him, and shakes his head before snorting as if Louis isn't worth his time. Louis glares back, though he probably doesn't look as imitating as Nick does, with his nose dripping blood. Nick's breathing hard, when he walks past him, his shoulder pushing against his own roughly, on his way out.

Louis should do the smart thing now; get home, sober up, and take care of his face.

Louis never said he was smart.

He follows after Nick instead, who is just walking down the street only a few meters away from him.

He's not ready to let him go yet.

"What? That's all you got? One lousy punch?!" Louis calls after him, "Thought you wanted to kill me?"

He must sound like a mad man, but Nick turns around and sneers a "Don't fucking tempt me, Tomlinson."

Nick is standing in the streetlight now, and something in Louis’ brain snaps. This is the man that has everything he wants, this is the man who has stolen Harry from him, the only one that ever mattered to him, the only one who makes him feel so strongly, so addicted. And there Nick just stands, doesn't even know how lucky he is, what he has, doesn't even know that Harry chose him over Louis. He is clueless. Nick is so fucking clueless.

It makes him angry, makes something inside him stir and it boils, and burns, and it works his way up to Louis’ heart. Makes his eyes burn, angry tears, and he balls his fist at his side. Why isn't Nick beating him up right now? Isn't he feeling the same things he is? Betrayed, heartbroken, lost, angry...

"God, you fucking piss me off!" Louis says, doesn't even try to hide the bitterness in his voice.

"I piss you off?!" Nick asks, and Louis can see that he's barely containing himself, "You fucked my boyfriend and-"

"But he wants you!" Louis yells now, and it's real. It happened. Harry chose Nick. Not him. He will never. "He wants you." he repeats, the realization hitting him hard as he speaks the words out loud, his voice breaks a bit and Nick just stares at him silently, as the wind dries the wetness on his cheeks. He takes in a rattling breath, his nose hurts, there's blood on his hands, all over, and it's all he sees, and he can't take this.

He can't.

Nick looks as lost as Louis feels, and he looks at him with something that might be pity. Like he sees somehow through him and Louis decides that he can't stand this anymore. He turns around and leaves, takes his battered shield, his destroyed dignity, and walks away from him. From them. From this mess. It didn't do any good anyway. Didn't do anything. He is stupid. Nick is calling after him. But it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters anymore. What was he hoping to archive?

What good did it do to break Nick's heart?

Did it bring Harry back to him? Did it fix his own? Did causing him pain made him feel any better?

No.

He will never be with him again. Harry is gone.

And he walks down the street, his face hurting, and his fingers tighten in the wool of Harry's scarf, it calms him, steadies him, pushes back the inevitable panic and horror and shock and loss.

He tries to breathe through his tears. Breathe. He's gone. Breathe.

The realization weights him down, tightens around his throat, threatens to cut off his air.

He's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.... end of part 2
> 
> I'm sorry


	22. SOLITUDE

Going out to work the next day is not an easy thing, when your head feels like it has been smashed against a brick wall repeatedly. His entire face hurts, and he doesn't even want to talk about his heart.

So he doesn't.

Kendall calls, and he picks up, he hears her cheerful voice, "How did it go?"

He breathes out, it arches and it bleeds, he tells her "Not good," and he hangs up again.

He gets ready for work, though he spends an entire hour just sitting at the edge of his bed, staring at his naked feet. He can't bring himself to care about anything, let alone work. He shakes his head at himself, and proceeds to make himself look kind of presentable, bandages up his nose a bit, which looks black and blue. It's broken. 

That motherfucker broke his nose. Whatever. He hurt him much more. Some wounds aren't as easy to see. Aren't as easy to heal.

He walks through the misty morning air, it's early, and his breath turns the air around him white. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and he still feels as terrible as yesterday night. It doesn't feel fair and it doesn't feel right, and if he's sure of one thing, it's that they just ruined each other. And he'll never be able to stop thinking about Harry, he'll never be able to get him out of his system.

He doesn't want to see him ever again.

As always though, fate doesn't seem to work in his favor. And it shows itself in the cruelest way, like a punch in the gut, like a stab through his heart, when Harry comes around his workplace at noon. Bobby follows happily behind him, as he comes through the door. Harry looks uncomfortable and something inside him freezes painfully.

How dare he show his face? How fucking-

"What happened to your face?" Harry asks, he looks a bit taken aback by the sight of him, when he sees him sitting behind the counter in the front. Louis snorts, and he regrets it a bit shortly after, because shit his nose hurts, but he can't help himself. Why is he here? What does he want? How dare he? How dare he?

"Why are you here?" Louis asks, he doesn't sound as sharp and annoyed as he would like to. Feels weak from Harry's presence alone. Didn't Nick tell him that he beat his face in though? Didn't he tell him? What happened last night?

"I'm bringing Taylor her key, she forgot it, and Edward asked me to bring it to her. Doesn't want her to be locked out when she comes home." He smiles a bit crookedly, and gets a little key out of his pocket, waving it around a bit. Like he's showing Louis that he got a valid reason for being here.

He nods, his whole body feels taunt. "She's on her break right now, I will give it to her later."

Harry smiles a bit unsure, and puts the key on the counter, carefully. Like he's afraid of getting too close. Bobby is whining a bit. Impatient.

Harry looks like he's ready to leave, he looks out of his depths, and out of his wits when he turns around again though,"I-," he starts, and his voice is small, "Seriously, what happened?"

Louis looks at him, and yeah, he can see it now. Louis’ not the only one who looks miserable. Harry does too. And his misery shouldn't affect him, shouldn't make it harder to breathe, shouldn't fill him with concern or regret because he hates seeing him sad. Because it kills him. No, it shouldn't affect him at all. It does, but it really shouldn't.

"I got into a fight. Felt like I needed it after you left me."

Harry flinches. But he doesn't get to act sorry about it now. He left him. Fuck everything they ever had.

"You've been drinking," he says, sounding disappointed. "I know." It's written in his face. "You seen Nick lately?" Because Louis has. Last night.

"He's avoiding me."

Because Nick knows now. Right. Why would he come home to the cheater? Maybe Nick isn't as forgiveable as Eleanor. Maybe Nick doesn't love Harry enough.

"God, because the... the funniest thing happened. You'll love this." Louis laughs already, and Harry looks alarmed. Something about this doesn't feel good, but it will soon. It will. "See, I've kind of been in a bad place since, well, yesterday, and I was kind of drunk, and I just have not been making the best decisions as of late, and then I met –"

"You need to stop doing this shit to yourself," Harry whispers, eyes so sad, and Louis forgets what he meant to say. His thoughts scatter all over, and a familiar tug feels in his chest. Something warm and powerful. No. No, not that. "Louis," he says softly, and Louis stares at him in confusion. "You have to take better care of yourself."

But why would he care for himself when Harry doesn't?

"You don't get to worry," Louis says quietly. One word, one sad look, the way he says his name, and everything he's so sure of seems to vanish. One word, and the scab gets pulled off prematurely, and it's fresh blood all over again. "You chose Nick, so you don't –"

"I can't help but worry, you look miserable and I mean- I'm still-"

"Harry, stop." Louis says firmly, "You don't get to worry about me. You don't have the right."

He looks taken aback by Louis’ words. But it's true. Harry doesn't have the right to worry about him. Doesn't have the right to feel sorry for what he did to him. It's not fair. And he isn't allowed to look at him like he's weak either. Like he's the one who is afraid of it. Like Harry isn't a victim of his own emotions, just like he is.

Or maybe he's the only one who feels forced to his knees by what he feels. No, no. That can't be. Harry has to feel this.

"Can I ask you one thing?" Louis asks, and Harry nods a bit hesitantly. "Did I... imagine it? Us?" Louis pushes away the memories that are too pure to think of right now. "What we felt? Was that just me?"

"Of course it wasn't." He's frowning, looking hurt. "Walking away from you last night was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. God, you haven't imagined us. Back when things were easier, I'd just find myself smiling thinking about you all the time."

That's good. That's comforting to know at last.

It doesn't change anything but it makes him feel less insane.

"I did something bad," Louis says slowly, to bring down the sword that's hanging above their heads. "I did... something wrong, thought it'd make me feel better. It didn't. I thought that... hurting you would make me feel better. But it won't."

Harry's staring at him, suddenly pale. "What did you do?"

"I told Nick about us." He says, and he points at his bruised nose. "Maybe that's why he's avoiding you."

Harry takes a step back, and Bobbys whining gets more impatient. Like he's fed up with waiting for Harry. Same, here. Louis thinks.

"I...don't know what to say." Harry mumbles, he looks angry, shaking his head. "I'm not even...surprised about that. I guess, I expected it from you."

Louis bites his lip. It hurts. That's possibly the worst thing Harry could have said. That he's not even surprised by his wrong turns and fucked up actions anymore. That the distrust runs this deep.  
And when Harry leaves, with a "Goodbye," that seems to burn hot in his throat and his eyes watering, Louis knows it's true.

They have a knack for destroying each other. 

x x x

Louis has been making a lot of bad decisions. One of them has been the devil himself.

The air is stale and somehow too warm to breathe.

"Coffee would be great," Franco says from beside him. Louis doesn't even move his head from his naked chest.

"Kitchen." He says, kicking back the blanket a bit. His bed feels too hot.

"Kitchen's too far away." Franco says, reaching out pathetically and then slumping back on the bed.

"You sad fuck."

"Louis. Baby, ayuda, por favor. Necesito café." He pushes closer and nuzzles his shoulder. "I'll love you forever." He smells of old booze, cigarettes and sex. Louis guesses he smells the same.

"I thought you already did." 

"I'll love you more."

"Unlikely." Louis says, but he stands up anyway. Stretching his bones as he feels Franco's eyes resting on his half-naked body, and he can hear an appreciative murmur. He doesn't really feel like putting on a show though, so he just ruffles his already messy hair, and makes his way to the kitchen, ignoring how his floor is a mess of old clothes, weed and alcohol bottles. When he comes back with two cups of coffee, Franco is sitting up in his bed, cigarette lightened up. Louis passes him the coffee, and the older man nods in thanks, holding his cigarette in front of Louis’ mouth. He takes it between his lips, inhaling.

"You're not sleeping well, are you?" the blond asks in this knowing tone, patting the spot beside him on the bed, where Louis was lying a few seconds ago. "Here, sit down for a while." Louis reluctantly obeys.

"I'm sleeping here and there," he says, protesting slightly.

"Yeah? Because you don't look it." There's sincere concern on his face. 

"So you're saying that I look like shit."

"No, you look good. Of course you do. Just unsettled."

"I really don't want to talk about it." He says, sounding defensive, even thought he doesn't have to.

Franco raises an eyebrow. "I'm just worried about you."

Louis makes a face, but dips down for a quick kiss. Franco tastes like a mix between coffee, smoke and bourbon ice-tea. "Forget it for now, will you?"

As much as he hates how they are using each other, he loves that Franco pretends to care.

x x x

The days string together. He wakes up, goes to work, ignores it when Taylor mentions Harry. He snapped at her one time, and she stopped talking about how Harry moved in with her and her boyfriend.

Louis doesn't care to think about what that means. He doesn't want to know.

Some days feel worse than others. Feels like he is obsessed with silence. He doesn't talk to Kendall or Ashton. Doesn't talk to any of his friends. Franco is the only one who dares to break his solitude.

"Tell me about him," he says one day, when they are sitting at a bar downtown. "That chico that got you so lovesick."

Louis takes a shot. Feels like he needs one.

"C'mon, share." he insists when Louis stays silent.

Louis nods. He's slightly drunk. "He's this twitchy little overenthusiastic thing. When he's happy at least." Louis says, even though around him, Harry wasn't that happy at all. He regrets. He liked it when he was happy. He wanted to make him happy. "He's a bit clingy. Or. Well that's not really right. It's just if he considers you special enough he just won't let you go so easily." Louis laughs a bit dryly, and Franco nods for him to go on. "Trust me. I have done some shitty things, and though he was clearly upset about it, he didn't leave. And he. God." Louis takes another shot. "When he smiles at you. You know? These kind of special smiles. Where you know it's just for you. You can't forget them, and he won't let you either. Makes sure to leave an impression on you. And you can't-" his voice cracks, and he swallows hard.

"Louis-" Franco starts. "You can't forget him."

"You are still in love." the blonde says, and Louis feels sick because he knows it's true.

The thing is: Everywhere he goes, he sees him. Sees them. He walks to the park, sees their bench, the one they used to meet every Wednesday and it tears him apart. He sees the red scarf hanging in his closet, and he ignores how the sight of it makes him want to burn his apartment down. When he walks home with Franco that night, he sees him in the stars.

"We were up on the rooftops." Louis slurs a bit. He feels dizzy. Drunk. The blonde is helping him walk, which is silly, he's sure he can walk just fine. "And with him and me, up there. Just. Us, y'know?" he asks, looking up at the sky, seeing the meat constellation right there, "All that trash down here was gold. Just for a moment."

"I don't really get what you are talking about, baby." Of course he doesn't. Of course.

"Maybe you need to forget him." he adds after a while of silence.

But how can he? If he can't even look up into the night sky? If he can't even walk through a park, if he can't even breath without thinking about him?  
When he looks around everything reminds him of what he had, of what he let go.

"Maybe I need to leave." He says, and yeah. It's time to leave the past behind, and let it stay there.

A clean cut.

It's time to leave. 

x x x

Kendall seeks him out.

He's in his sweatpants, when he opens his door, and he's already packing his stuff. His suitcase is on the floor, clothes piled on there messily. He can't get it closed yet.

"What are you doing?" Kendall asks, her voice shrill. He already has a headache. "What happened to your face?"

"Uhm." He just says, watches as she just waltzes into his apartment like she owns the place. Louis usually doesn't mind that about Kendall. But today, he would rather be alone. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know. Checking if you are still alive." She sounds angry and annoyed as she stems her hands on her hips.

"You sound like Ashton." He says, following her into his apartment, closing the door behind him.

"We worry, Louis." She sighs, sounding frustrated, "You haven't picking up calls, you are never home when I come around, I don't know what you are doing, I don't know what folks you hang around with nowadays. And you. You look like shit!"

"Hey. Thanks." He says, a bit dryly, letting himself fall down on his couch. He picks up one of the cigarettes lying on the table. He started smoking obsessively, two packs a day when he was down to half a pack. His lungs burn like they don't agree with the sudden change, but his body will learn to live with it.

"Look, I don't know exactly what happened between you and Harry, but you can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Hide yourself away, acting like-"

"I'm leaving." He says, and her eyes widen a bit in shock. What? Did she think he would stay? Try to get Harry to come back to him again? No. He's done with that.

"Leaving?" She asks, "And where exactly are you going?" 

"Home."

x x x

"So that's our last night." the blonde says, and Louis nods. He's a bit drunk, a bit high. He's always drunk around Franco. Drunk or hangover. He thinks the man likes him that way.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks, his large hand sliding over his naked hip. Louis shakes his head, no. Not drunk enough for that.

"C'mon. Really? I know it's your first time." he says, and Louis feels himself getting turned on his stomach, feels a hand sliding over his ass. Bastard. Franco chuckles. "I will be gentle as fuck. I swear."

"Fuck off." He says, but his voice doesn't hold any bite. "I will fuck Harry right out of your mind."

"Fuck. Off."

"How about a blowjob then? I know you haven't tried that either, but isn't that stupid? Saving something like that for a boy who doesn't care?"  
It feels hard to breath for a moment. "C'mon. We will call it a kiss goodbye." Louis sighs, and nods.

x x x

He stops paying for Harry's college. He's sure Harry can handle life without him, even if he can't handle his life without Harry.

He hires Kendall's sister Kylie, because there is someone who needs to take his place at his shop, and she does some really decent tats. He gives Bepo all the responsibility to take over it, for however long he decides to leave. Bepo crushes him in a hug when he leaves, and Taylor joins too. He promises to call every week, to check up on them, and they promise to beat his ass if he doesn't.  
He moves out of his apartment, packs his shit, and then he's gone, gone, gone. 

x x x

Coming home is strange. Up north the weather doesn't really give a damn, and when he finally catches a cab he's already drenched. It's dark, and cold and the rain is coming from all sides, wiping in his face, when he walks up the stairs to his old home.  
It hasn't changed much.

At least something stayed the same.

And when Lottie sees him, she comes rushing forward, her arms wide, eyes shining and she crushes him in a hug so tight that it might as well just snapped some of his bones. Something tugs in Louis’ heart, something warm and familiar and maybe coming home actually was a good decision.

She still looks very much the same as she did three years ago, her hair got longer and is braided, falling over her shoulder. She's smiling big, bright and happy and Louis can't help but smile back. It feels foreign on his face.

"Louis!" she says, her eyes are wide and excited, and Louis feels bad for not having visited as much as he probably should have.  
Sometimes life is so hectic that you forget what's important.

He sees his mother smile at him from the doorway and Louis waves. "You are just in time for dinner, Louis."

x x x

"So, how are you and Eleanor?" his mother asks, after their dinner prayer. Louis bites his tongue.

He doesn't say anything, stuffs some macaroni in his mouth and makes a show of chewing, so he doesn't have to answer.

"You haven't talked much about her whenever you called," his dad says, "Didn't she wanna come with you to visit?"

"Aw, I would have loved to see her again." Lottie says now, a bit sadly. Louis knows they got along well, and he knows his parents liked her. Probably thought they would marry, probably thought he will call one day and tell them he popped the question. Probably thought he's here to give them the good news. Shit.

"Uhm." He says, before his family starts talking about how nice of a girl Eleanor is. "We broke up."

"What?" that's Lottie. She looks and sounds shocked and Louis shrugs. He should have told them, but then he would probably tell them why they broke up. Louis had a hard time admitting that he swings both ways to himself. It took him long enough, and he lives with it now, but he isn't exactly keen to tell his family. And that's not all. They really don't need to know that he cheated on her. He's ashamed enough already, he doesn't need his parents to make him feel even worse about it.

"Why?" his mother asks now. She looks worried, and it occurs to Louis that maybe they now think Eleanor's and his break-up is the reason he's visiting.

"It just didn't work out. We had too many differences." He says, tearing his eyes away from the cross on the wall. He can see Lottie watching him from the corner of his eye.

"That's too bad." His father now says, and his mother adds. "She was a really nice girl, Lou."

The "How could you let her go?" hangs in the room, unsaid.

And a familiar sense of guilt rings in the back of his head. She never deserved what... Well. There's no use crying over spilt milk. Had he known, had he been able to see into the future... maybe Eleanor and him would have turned out differently.

That is a lie, and he knows it. They were not a good match even when they were. She was a great girl, though. And he used to be in love with her until he wasn't anymore.

That's all. 

x x x

He makes himself comfortable in the guest room, his wet clothes still hanging over his chair, waiting to dry. He lets out a sigh. As nice as it is seeing his family again, it was exhausting as well. The questions just didn't seem to stop.

He gets a cigarette out of the back pocket of his wet jeans, and frowns a bit when he notices that the sticks are damp.

"They will give you cancer anyway."

Louis whips his head around to see Lottie leaning against the door-frame. She's smiling as she comes in, and she closes the door behind her.

"What is it?" he asks, throwing the ruined cigarettes into the bin. He will get new ones tomorrow. "You need me to bring you to bed? Tell you a little bedtime story? Like back then?" he's teasing, and Lottie snorts out a laugh before she turns serious again.

"You were lying." She says, "Or well. Not really saying the truth, not all of it anyway." She grins a bit and Louis rolls his eyes. Damn her. "You can't lie to me, brother."

"So what?" he asks.

"So what happened? Between you and Eleanor." Lottie looks curious. She knows there's more to it, than a few differences that they couldn't work out. Louis is annoyed. He doesn't want to talk about Eleanor. Eleanor is not the problem here.

"I told you, it just wasn't working out." He shrugs, sitting down at the edge of the bed. What does Lottie want to hear?

"Why?" she stresses.

"Why? Why are you so nosy?" he asks, frowning a bit.

Lottie shrugs, "Maybe talking about it will be good. You seem bitter about it."

"I'm not bitter about Eleanor." He says, and really. He isn't. Lottie lifts her eyebrows though, doubtful.

"Really? Because you look bitter."

"I always look like that. It's my fucking face."

"Don't curse." She says and Louis rolls his eyes. "C'mon. Spill."

"Just let it go, okay?" he says. He's getting annoyed. Why is everyone so worried about him?! He doesn't need to be babied.

"Louis...I just think-"

"Goddamn, Lottie I don't want to talk about it, okay?" he snaps, but his sister isn't stepping down.

"Don't say the saviors name in vain, Louis." She mutters, and Louis can sense that she isn't done yet. "You come here without notice. You say it was just a spur of a moment, that you want to catch up, but you didn't talk. You barely said a word during dinner, you weren't even listening to us! You clearly got into a fight, and you look miserable, you sound miserable, and if you need help getting Eleanor back then-"

"I cheated on her," he hisses, fed up. Lottie looks shocked. "I cheated on her repeatedly. It's over and done with, and that's not why I'm here. She's not the reason for anything!"  
Lottie looks confused, struggling for words.

"But...but why would you do something like that?"

He shakes his head, "You wouldn't understand." Lottielooks angry at that, "Was she worth it though?" 

"What?"

"The girl you cheated on her with. Was she worth it?" Louis doesn't look at his sister when he says, "He was."

The noise his sister makes then is high and surprised and Louis can't look her in the eye.

"He-...he? As in...a guy?" She stutters.

He just nods, letting his head hang. Lottie lets out another inhuman sound.

"So you are...gay...then...?" Lottie looks taken aback. And Louis really doesn't want to talk about anything. He wants to be alone. This wasn't a good idea.

"Okay...so." she starts, when he doesn't say anything. She looks a bit sad. "You know it doesn't matter to me if you love...a man..or a woman. I don't...I don't think it would matter to mom and dad either."

Louis keeps silent. Not sure if he really buys that. And Lottie sits down next to him on the bed. He feels her arms around his shoulder, and she says quietly, "We are your family, Louis. You can be honest with us."

He lets out a deep breath. Lottie says, "We can talk about it, it will make you feel better, I'm sure."

Louis looks up, and his sister looks honest, and maybe he finally found someone he can pour his heart out to. He hesitates and she says, "I'm not going to judge you." It's silent for a while, and when Louis finally opens his mouth, he spills everything.

He tells her how they met, how confused he was, how he believed he did the right choices even if deep inside he knew he did everything wrong. How he hurt Eleanor, how he hurt Harry, how Harry hurt him in the end. He tells her how he couldn't help but fall in love with him. How he tried to fight it, how he could never pin Harry down. Never had him figured out. He tells her the bad he had done. He lies all his sins bare, recognizes them as what they are. He tells her about the hope he felt when Harry decided to give in a little, how happy he was, how he didn't care about Nick, not at all. And does that make him a bad human? That he didn't care about who he's hurting in the process of making Harry his? How he would have done everything it takes? He doesn't know, and Lottie doesn't say anything. Just listens.

She listens, and nods, and watches him break down, and Louis is pulling off every single one of his scabs and plasters until he's bleeding all over the floor.

And in the end he feels empty, his heart numb, his eyes burn, and Lottie doesn't judge.

x x x

He decides he can't stay forever at his parents house, doesn't want to either, and rents himself an apartment, outside of the city, by a big lake. It's a bit old, a lot of wood, but Louis doesn't really care.  
The weather is horrible in the morning, just like it was all those days before. Staying in bed seems like a good idea, and he pulls the covers over his head and tries to get back to sleep but it's in vain. He puts some music on, his bare feet on the Oriental rug that matches the heavy satin curtains. They help to keep the place warm. He lights a cigarette, pulls on jeans and grabs one of his sketchbooks. He starts with arms, and it's a little boy that he's trying to draw, one with messy, curly hair and a wicked grin, afraid of nothing, not having lost anything.

He wonders if it's a kid he has seen in town or if he's just a figment of his imagination.

He's working on his mouth when a song finishes, and he stops. Frowns. He hears a noise from downstairs, a thump. It's barely noon and there's a strong wind outside, but that was not the sound of the wind battering the house. That sound came from the inside.

He throws a shirt on as he heads downstairs to investigate, buttoning it up as he goes. The stairs creak as he tries to figure out if one of the seaside paintings has come falling down or maybe –  
There's a man in his living room.

"Ashton?" He asks, and the Ashton jumps and swirls around.

"Louis!" he says, and he's smiling and grinning and what the fuck is he doing here?

"How did you come in?"

"The door wasn't locked." He motions to the hallway. 

"It's not an invitation to come in, though."

"Oh man. I haven't seen you in months and that's how you welcome me?" Ashton looks mildly disappointed and Louis can't help but sigh.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to get you back home of course."

"I'm home." Louis says.

"You're really not." Ashton pulls his leather jacket off and throws it over the arm of the couch. He lets himself fall down on it then, and Louis just stares at him a bit bewildered.

"I mean really, what were you thinking? Fucking off without telling me? Your best friend? I'm hurt, dude. And I had to hear it from Kendall." he laughs a bit,

"Girl still doesn't want to date me, but Louis, I swear I will get there. I swear." Ashton nods, but then shakes his head, as if he noticed he got off track. "Whatever. I'm here to tell you that you can't hide yourself, that you need to stop moping around."

Louis stares at Ashton in astonishment. This apartment has never heard so much speech in one day, let alone a week.

"Don't tell me how to live my life." Louis says. He didn't ask Ashton to come here. Didn't ask for someone to decide that he should stop being miserable. That he needs to get over himself.  
Ashton sighs, obviously feeling rejected. Louis shakes his head, and decides to change the topic "You want to stay at the guest room tonight?" he asks.

"Dude. I counted on it." The full grin on Ashton's face is back full-force and Louis contemplates if he would get away with murdering him. Here, in the middle of nowhere, he doesn't think anyone would care.

Louis fixes them dinner later on that evening, having shown Ashton to the unused guest room where he can stay for tonight. Just tonight.

The soup has started to boil, so he pours it into the two bowls that he has set on the counter. It's a brown-pinkish colour, like someone's vomit with processed chicken chunks in it. Ashton looks unimpressed by it when he sets it in front of him.

"Is that boat by the lake there yours?"

"No."

"So do you ever go fishing?" 

"No."

"Hiking?"

"No."

"Swimming?"

"No."

"...Walking?" 

"No."

He's frowning. He looks around. "So, you just... stay in all day, doing what?"

"Reading. Drawing. Thinking. Lottie calls sometimes. Sometimes I think about walking."

"Boring." Ashton says and Louis shrugs.

Ashton starts stirring the soup with his spoon, eyeing it with mild disgust. "So...we haven't really talked about it. But Harry left you, right? It didn't work out. I heard you got hit in the face by Nick, right?" If he knows this, why is he fact-checking with him? Louis only does a half-shrug that's as good as admission. "So you decided to fuck off."

"I couldn't stay there anymore. Everything reminded me of him." He says, blowing on a spoonful of soup before swallowing it down. It doesn't taste half bad.

Ashton's playing with his food. Louis feels the urge to tell him to stop it, like he's his mother and Ashton's a disobedient child. "Nick and Harry broke up, if you want to know. It was messy as fuck."  
Louis stares at his soup and listens to the clock ticking away in his small kitchen. Deep down he knew they wouldn't make it. He hopes Harry is alright.

"Have you...seen him around?" Louis asks quietly.

Ashton nods. "Harry? Yeah. Yeah. A few times." He takes a spoonful of the soup, makes a face and pushes the plate away from himself. Louis tries not to be offended that his culinary skills do not impress him, but mostly he wonders where he saw Harry. What he saw.

"How is he?" he asks, can't help himself.

"I really don't know." Ashton says, "I only know what Kendall and Taylor told me, and that's only because I kept pestering them about it." Ashton chuckles. "Taylor probably thinks I'm interested in him."  
Louis swallows. "What did they say?"

Louis shouldn't care. Harry played him. Like a fucking puppet. An insignificant little fucking thing.  
He laid it all out there for him, offered it all and he just –

He realizes that he's squeezing his spoon too hard, like he's trying to murder it. He loosens his grip slightly, embarrassed because he thinks Ashton notices. The soup, Louis has to admit, is not particularly tasty, and he gives up forcing it down and pushes it away like Ashton did.

"Harry is-"

"Forget it." Louis interrupts him quickly, "I don't want to know." 

"Really? I thought-"

"Eat your damn soup," he orders.

"I'll make us some real food," Ashton declares, but ten minutes later, they are munching on buttered toast. He says, "I'll have to make some changes around here."

Louis would like to see him try.


	23. TWIST THE KNIFE

Louis is not used to having someone in the house, not used to the constant presence of another person. Not that it's constant because Louis sends Ashton out to find the perfect flowers to put on the kitchen sill or to drive into town for more beer or something to get him off his back because Ashton doesn't understand much about breathing space. But sometimes he stops talking, asks him to recommend a book, and then they sit in the living room reading late into the evening.

Ashton said that he is cooking tonight (like he does every night, to be fair), so Louis drops the post onto the living room coffee table and heads upstairs to listen to music. Ashton has got enough sense to realize that his bedroom is his kingdom and he is not invited.

He lies down in bed and listens to Muddy Waters and how he just wants to make love to his girl. Or boy. Hell, it's not like he specifies, and god knows you can make love to both. But he doesn't want to follow that thought any further because it'd do him no good, so he focuses on the music, his eyes closing. It's like escaping to another world, Muddy's world, and he visualizes himself by the Mississippi River in the forties, humid night air, darkness all around them and insects buzzing in their ears, and they're gathered on the porch of some sad little house with their guitars out, singing the blues.

He wonders if he could have been happy in that world. If he would have been different. Happier. Better.

He thinks so.

He could have been happy there.

He could have been happy in a dozen different versions of life. But this is the one he got. The one he cannot change. And when he realizes that this is it, he nearly panics. Feels so guilty. Traces his steps and thinks what a damn mess he has made of it.

"Knockity knock!" Ashton chirps from the now open door. "Dinner's ready." He smiles at him brightly. Louis sighs and gets up.

Ashton made them a relatively simple meal of chicken and rice with some sweet corn on the side, but it's still the most refined and tastiest meal Louis has had in months. He doesn't tell him that, though, even when Ashton stares at him from across the table with expectant eyes. "It's alright," he grants, and Ashton relaxes and seems happy.

"So..." Ashton starts, and Louis doesn't even look up from his food. "You got an invitation."

"What?" Louis asks, watching how Ashton points towards the post stash on the table. He raises an eyebrow, "You read my mail?"

"Well, you don't." 

"Maybe I don't want to." 

"Maybe it's important." 

"It never is."

"This is though," Ashton says, grabbing a blue and pink colored card from the table, trusting it into Louis’ direction, "Taylor send you an invitation to her engagement party."  
Louis stares.

He quickly reaches for the note with a shaking hand, his eyes flying over the brief text: In case you're in town. – Taylor

Taylor.

He drops the card, exhaling shakily. His eyes are glued to the paper. An invitation. He takes a big sip of Scotch. It burns his throat and warms him up, but it doesn't calm him down.

Is he aware that Taylor has invited him?

Suddenly, the questions are swirling in his head, creating chaos. He's not ready.

He pictures himself at the party, congratulating Taylor, drinking beer, and then he would be there, eyes widening at the sight of him. God, he's not ready.

And who says that it's him who has to do the grovelling? He never signed up for that. He put it all behind him.

But somehow it keeps catching up with him. 

x x x

"Are you going?" Kendall's voice sounds muffled over the phone. Like she's busy. Could be the shitty connection though. Louis knows she is glad he called her.

"No," Louis says instantly. "No. Ashton thinks I should...But I just-" he sighs, cards through his hair nervously. "Do you think... I mean. Do you think Taylor sent it without consulting anyone?"

"You mean if Harry knows that Taylor invited you?"

He takes in a deep breath, hating that something as insignificant as a piece of paper has thrown him off balance so much. "Yeah." He rubs his face. "Yeah, I suppose that's what I mean."

"I can't know that. But forget about it. Because you're thinking that if Harry knows, maybe he wants to see you, or then again Harry just might not care. My guess is that Taylor just misses you, and I think that you should call her to say thanks but you won't be able to attend. I want you to come home, but not because of Harry. Don't think about it too much, Louis. That's all done with. No reason to stir up something that's dead and buried, right?"

Dead and buried, done with, yeah, Louis knows that. He tells himself that all the time.

But it's haunting. Does Kendall understand that? 

x x x

This morning, when he came down, Ashton had made scrambled eggs. It's like suddenly he's a guest in his own home. It's weird. The kitchen is actually heated up, the light is on and warm, Ashton must have changed the light-bulbs. Replaced white light, with orange. It's nice. He even turned the radio on.

"Good morning!" Ashton chirps, and Louis rolls his eyes at his good mood.

"Mornin'" he mumbles, ruffling his hair, before taking his usual place at the table.

He used to listen to the radio a lot, but reception is bad out here, only a few stations that Louis doesn't care for. Ashton keeps babbleing about going grocery shopping as the moderator starts talking.  
"What?" Louis interrupts him. Listening to the voice that's talking about music charts now. "What the...?" He stands up, his heart beating fast, and he turns the radio louder. It can't be.

And so he finds him, via radio waves

"Oh yeah," Ashton says, mouth-full "Harry works at a radio station. His friend got him into it." Louis stares at him. Harry's voice makes every hair on his body stand up.

Ashton shrugs, "The station's lame though. But it's the only one you can get in around here." Louis absolutely hates how ironic that is.

"You must be kidding me," he mumbles, and then when Harry laughs, Louis turns the radio off.

He feels out of breath.

x x x

The thing is, he listens to the show when Ashton is not there. He's embarrassed, and he shouldn't. But he can't really help himself. He's too curious for his own good. And then, one late night when he took the radio in his own room, lying on the bed, listening to Harry and music, music and Harry. It happens.

Harry talks about him.

He doesn't mention his name, or anything. But he says that there once was someone who was really important to him but he left his life and is not there anymore, that they don't have contact, and then something about how important friends are. Whatever. Not the point.

He talks about him. 

x x x

Ashton keeps craning his neck and looking his way with big 'notice me' eyes. Louis chooses to ignore him, resting the notepad on his raised knees as he's curled up in the armchair. He brushes over the lead on the page with his pinkie before going back to sketching. Ashton's been reading a book that Louis recommended him, and the radio is in the kitchen, but it isn't on.

"What are you drawing?" Ashton asks eventually. Louis doesn't look up. 

"A drawing."

"Of what?"

"Of what I am drawing."

He sighs dramatically. He's fidgeting slightly. He's not good at being ignored. Then, "Can I see what you're drawing?"

Louis tries to remain patient and looks up at Ashton at last. He's sitting on the couch, the book now abandoned. He's batting his eyelashes at him. "Sure," Louis gives in. Of course the relatively cosy silent co-existence couldn't last. He hurries over and takes his notepad from him.

"Oh. Oh, awesome!" he says, taking in the drawing, and he starts flipping through the pages. "Hey, I always forget how good you are at that stuff."

"Thanks?"

"So who's the little boy you keep drawing?" He squints at a page and peers at it intently. "He looks familiar. In a way."

"Imagination."

"Huh." Ashton says, sounding disappointed. "Are we gonna into the city tonight? Get out of here? I feel trapped."

"I really don't feel like going out." Louis says. He's perfectly comfortable staying at home.

"Oh, c'mon!" Ashton whines, Louis looks annoyed. "Please?"

"Fine." He huffs, he doesn't feel like arguing today. "You pay, though."

"Deal." Ashton grins, before he lets out a sigh, scratching the back of his head. "Man, this is harder than I thought it would be."

He says it more to himself than to Louis, but he asks "What?" anyway.

"Oh nothing," Ashton says, shaking his head. "Can you lend me some warm clothes? It's colder up north than I thought. And if we go out tonight, I really don't wanna-"

"Yeah," Louis says, winking in the direction of the stairs. He just wants Ashton to get out of his hair, "Help yourself."

"Thank you!" Ashton beams, and then he's already rushing up the stairs two steps at a time..

Louis sketches his mystery boy, ten years old. His bastard son, but he doesn't look like him. He can't get him right, though, his eyes or – Maybe his nose, it's not quite right, and he ends up frustrated and angry, and the picture isn't even very good.

Eventually he gives up. It's almost time for an early lunch, so Ashton should make them something

The door to his bedroom is ajar, and he walks in. "So should we –" he starts but then he stops. Ashton's staring at the wardrobe mirror in concentration, his hands on his neck, he's wearing Louis’ jacket, and-

"What are you doing?"

Ashton turns to him. His heart plummets and then stops working altogether.

"That scarf fits really well with the jacket." He smiles excitedly. "It's really soft too." He fiddles with the scarf, rotates it to get it to sit perfectly. Louis feels sick.

"Take that off."

He frowns. "What?"

"Goddammit, Ashton, take that off!" Louis barks, now rushing over, apparently quickly enough to scare him because he's hurrying to take the scarf off. Louis runs out of patience and grabs it, pulling it from his neck. It's warm against his hand. His mind is reeling. How fucking dare he? "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Well, I–"

"Don't touch my stuff!" 

"But you told me to –"

"No! I did not! You don't fucking touch this, you don't fucking wear it!" Louis yells at him, squeezing his fist around the fabric. "Have you any idea?! Any at all?! You fucking idiot! Don't you ever touch my stuff!"

Ashton looks at him in a way he hasn't before. He looks scared. So is Louis though.

"I don't need you here, reminding me of all this shit I don't want to remember!"

Louis’ got a headache, and it's all because of Ashton and how he keeps reminding him of painful memories.

"I'm sorry I t-took the scarf –"

"Too fucking late!" Louis yells at him and points at the door. "Get out. Right now." He doesn't budge. "Get the fuck out!"

"Louis, I'm sorry."

"Out of my fucking house, you selfish, self-absorbed prick! Get out!"

He approaches Ashton as if to kick his ass right now, and this seems to have the desired effect because he hurries out the door like a scared child. Louis comes to a stop, doesn't follow. Breathe unevenly. Pulls his hair with one hand. He's wrecked. His hands are shaking. The scarf is still in his fist. Something rattles so deep inside him that it feels like building blocks changing location, tearing up sutures.

He feels heartbroken all over again.

When he gets downstairs, Ashton is sheepishly sitting on the couch, like him being still and quiet is what's needed. He throws him his jacket. He looks confused.

"Put that on and get the fuck out," Louis hisses, his tone pained even to his own ears. He leaves no room for objections. The scarf is still in his hand, burning the skin, Louis swears that it does. Ashton looks so shocked that he actually obeys, standing up and putting the jackt on, but he stares at him like any second now Louis will say he's kidding.

He's not.

Ashton crossed the line. He's out of here.

"But what about... what about my stuff?" Ashton asks uncertainly, like he still can't believe this.

"I think I'll help myself to it without permission," Louis spits out, and then he's pushing him out of the house.

"Louis –"

"Fuck you," Louis says, his head and heart and everything still a painful mess in a way they haven't been in months. Because he's been learning. That answers his fucking questions, that's what he's been doing: learning how to make it stop hurting.

And he just wrecks it like that.

"Fuck you," Louis repeats again, more venomously, and then he's out on the porch, looking shaken to the bone and confused and sorry. "I never want to see you again," Louis clarifies, and then the door slams in Ashton's face.

He steps away from the door, thinking that now the cause is gone, now everything will click back into place. But it doesn't. The thoughts don't stop. They keep spinning and spinning, creating a spiral right at the very core of him.

He looks at the scarf in his hand, breathing hard. Such a stupid thing, and he hates it, fucking hates it, and he snarls at it, and he throws it across the room and it hits the hallway wall and doesn't make much of a sound as it just drops onto the floor. Louis steps on it on his way upstairs. He breathes out. Memories flashing in front of his eyes. How he gave it to him, as a gift, and how Harry beamed at him, and after that wore if whenever they met at the bench. How he wore it again, two years later, when he was with Nick. A prove that he was still tagging along with his heart. And now it's his own again, he took it from him as though that would change anything, as though Harry doesn't still own his heart. And he can't.

He just can't.

Downstairs, everything is quiet. Ashton isn't banging on the door and Louis can't see him through the window, but that's fine. He's gone. He can go back now, back to the status quo. Not thinking about it.

History. Dead and buried.

He sinks into his armchair, accidentally sitting on his sketchpad. He pulls it from beneath him, the pages now wrinkled. He smoothes them out with a shaking hand, nauseating sickness swelling up in his stomach. And the kid on the page, this anonymous little boy, has big eyes. Has got these warm eyes.

And he looks at another page. Same kid. Same eyes. And another sketch. And another. And another.

And it doesn't even click until then that he's been drawing figures with his features for the past seven months, during the time he's been living here. Women with his eyes or men with his nose or boys with his mouth, it's all the fucking same, and yet he never put the eyes and the nose and the mouth in one picture to bring the obvious features together.

In shock and mild embarrassment, he throws the sketchpad away from him. No wonder Ashton thought the kid looked familiar.

Harry is in the hallway, warm fabric. He's on the living room floor in bad drawings, caricatures by someone who could never capture his beauty. Who could never capture him, period.  
He is everywhere. He hasn't set foot in this house, but Louis carried him in. Even when he was saying that he was leaving him behind.

He follows him.

And it's not over. And it can't be over. Because they are not dead yet. They are not buried. If you want to kill this love, you really gotta twist the knife, and Louis tried. And Louis is done with that. He doesn't want to forget him.

He can't.

X X X

The late morning sun is high up when he walks out of the house, armed with his coat, a scarf, gloves and his wallet and nothing else. The sun is over the lake, and the water glistens in the sunlight. The air is brisk and light, and it's the first beautiful day in a while. Louis has not left this town since he moved here.

He has not left this place in seven months. Ashton is nowhere to be seen.

He starts to walk fast down the road, away from the house and the lake, towards the woods and the bigger road. It takes a while to catch up with Ashton who is slouching towards town with his head hung low.

"Hey!" Louis calls out, slightly out of breath. Ashton stops and turns around. His eyes go wide, like he's expecting Louis to be armed with a baseball bat. "Hey." Louis stops when he reaches him, lean forwards slightly, sucking in cold air. Ashton waits as Louis catches his breath. Louis stands up straight, pull himself together. "We've got somewhere to go."

Ashton blinks. Stares at him in confusion. "What?"

"Yeah. Home. It's far away. We should hurry if we want to arrive before tomorrow."

"We're what...?" he starts, voice faint.

"Get with the program, man," Louis says, nudging Ashton as he passes and starts walking back towards his house. "You want to drive?"

He blinks. It seems to click. He dashes after Louis, eyes bright. "Yeah!" And that's all Louis needs.

x x x

He thought he left Harry behind when he left. He didn't. He was still there.

And Harry never even saw that house, but he was still there. In the living room was the ghost of a boy, putting his music on, his dog sleeping on the soft carpet, and then Harry joining Louis on the couch again, curling into him, pressing his nose against his neck, and Louis smoothed down his hair and took a hit of his cigarette, and Harry smiled against his skin and Louis loved him.  
There are no words to describe what emptiness feels like after realizing that he can't forget him. That he doesn't feel whole without him either.

"You wanna go see him tonight?" Ashton asks, after they have been driving in silence for what feels like hours. Only the radio on. He pulls him out of his thoughts.

"What?" Louis asks, he looks outside the window. They are nearly home and it's dark.

"Harry." Ashton sighs, "You wanna go see him tonight?"

Louis frowns. "What? No." He gets a cigarette out of his pocket, rolling it between his fingers. "I'm not just turning up on his front door. I don't even know where he lives."  
Well. Taylor told him that he moved in with her and Edward. But that's been months ago. Who says he hasn't moved again?  
Ashton raises his eyebrows, glancing at him before taking his eyes back to the road. "Weren't you listening to the radio? He's moderating mic night with Luke, in a club downtown. It's hosted by their radio show."

Louis wasn't listening.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Louis says. 

"Coward."

"I'm not. I just don't think-"

"What? You can go hide in the crowd. He won't even have to know you are there. And you can figure your shit out. Whatever. Isn't that the reason you wanted to go back? Are you suddenly backing out?"  
Maybe. Maybe he is. Maybe this was a stupid idea. The reality that he could see him tonight if he wanted to makes his stomach churn. He feels sick and terrified.

"What are you so afraid of?" Ashton asks. 

"Nothing." Louis says, "I'm not afraid." 

It's a lie.

x x x

This has got to be the stupidest fucking thing he has ever done.

He's actively trying not to think about how Harry is here, and he's here, how they are in the same place, and it's enough to make his guts twist and send his mind reeling. Just another indication of how over he thought it was and how over it's not. Not for him. He still thinks of him every day. Every single day.

They enter the actual hall from the back, faced with the backs of three thousand people standing in a mass, engulfed by darkness and then lit up by lights from the stage where a band is playing. The crowd feels restless but enthusiastic, and the air is heavy with cigarette and weed smoke. The people on the stage look small. Ashton is grinning next to him. He seems excited.

Louis pulls his hood over his head, if Harry comes out between bands, he doesn't need to spot him.

The band stops playing and the crowd cheers, as they thank them. He can hear Ashton yelling next to him. Louis is too tense to even move.  
And then the lights go out and it's darkness for a few seconds, but then a golden light, brightens up the stage again, and Luke comes on and the crowd cheers and claps. He smiles, seems nervous, wide-eyed. Lacks a bit of confidence. He blinks against the lights. He clutches his mic like a lifeline and watches nervously as the band members start packing their shit up.  
And then a figure half-jogs on stage and the audience reacts by cheering and clapping. Louis can't look. He drops his gaze and he feels every inch of him tingling, hyper aware. Hears his blood pounding in his ears. Looks at anywhere but, even when he hears him, and it's his voice, and he says, "Now wasn't that a fantastic band?"

The crowd cheers.

"Yeah, thought so too." He says it with such ease and such lightness to his words.

And then when Harry lets out a light chuckle, Louis looks up. And Harry has taken the microphone from the stand.

He looks happy. Content on that stage. And he jokes with Luke, how they have to entertain the crowd now, while the next band sets up their instruments. He laughs and smiles, and the crowd eats out of his hand.

What did Louis expect? That he's still a waiter or a bartender in some shitty club somewhere, waiting for the day that Louis strolls in and saves him?  
Harry never, ever needed saving. Louis just arrogantly assumed that he did.

He looks the same. From afar, he does. He is the same height. Same weight. Same color of hair. Same warm green eyes.

But he has grown in ways that make him almost unrecognizable. He has got stage presence. He isn't intimidated by the crowd, isn't apologetic for being there. He radiates confidence that Louis doesn't associate with any of his memories of him. Harry was always fierce, always knew his worth.

But now he stands there, up on stage, joking. Entertaining. Easily. Smoothly. Like he's been doing this forever.

Trying to associate the man on stage with his Harry feels impossible.

Because it isn't. He was never...sure of himself like that. Never carefree like that. But now on stage he is the things that he never was with him. Probably because Harry no longer is with him.  
"You guys finished?" Harry asks then, turning to the green haired punk who seems to be the lead singer, who nods. "Awesome! The stage is all yours then." he grins, and high-fives the guy, who's smile widens, watching Harry leave the stage, Luke on his trail.

The band introduces themselfs, but Louis isn't listening. Isn't looking. He's seen enough.

He pushes through the crowd, Ashton yelling after him. He can barely hear him.

And then he's outside in the cold again. He breathes heavily, everything in turmoil inside him. The night is dark, the street lights are the only source of light. And he breathes in the cold, cold air and he shivers to the bone and he lights a cigarette with trembling fingers, and then he sucks in smoke like it's air.

And nothing, nothing has changed.

What did he think would happen? That he'd magically see him? Words dying in his throat. All the answers, all the forgiveness clear on his face.  
And then Louis would know.

But he knows nothing. That didn't do anything for him except throw reality in his face. How happy he is without him. How he didn't need him for that. And when Louis closes his eyes and tries to focus on smoking, he only sees him on stage. And even his old memories of him suddenly feel new, like he is a part of him that will never fade with time.

And so the memory of him lives on, but now it's changing, shifting. From the boy curling into him on the couch, gently pushing closer and feeling so perfect in his arms, to that man who marched on stage just now, happy and sure.

The man who is no longer his. 

x x x

"God, I need a drink," he says. Ashton quirks an eyebrow as if to say 'but you are  
drinking'. Well, Louis needs to drink more. Clearly.

He's staying at Ashton's tonight. Ashton's apartment is old and small. Louis feels slightly trapped here. He will sleep on the couch tonight. The couch that's not even half his size.  
He should find Franco. He's got a way bigger apartment, and there Louis would probably not sleep on the couch.

Whatever.

"Life's hard." Louis says, and thinks about the small couch he's sitting on, and Franco's soft bed, and Harry.

Harry.

Life must be easy for him. No doubt, because what they had didn't mean a thing to him.

That's not true, Louis thinks, no, no, that's not true, you know this, Tomlinson, you know that.

It'd just be easier to believe that Louis was an idiot, lost in what they had, not seeing that for Harry it was just something to pass the time. But Harry did care. He returned to him. Gave in. Arched into his touch. They wouldn't have fought like they did if they hadn't cared, they wouldn't have cried and yelled and –  
It mattered to them both, is his point. It mattered. It tore them to pieces.

And Louis’ still too broken up about it to even step out of the shadows and face him.

"Do you ever – ever get fucking sick of your own thoughts?" Louis asks, the half- empty bottle in his grip. It wasn't completely full when they started. Or Louis started. He leans into the cushions, closing his eyes.

He suddenly feels like he felt that day, that day when Harry left him. The worst day of his life. The memories come rushing back, memories of making love to him, that excited buzz inside of him, when he thought that he had him, that they were going to be together now, that Harry was finally his, and then the cruel reality when he left him. He left him, and Louis had to leave. Because he couldn't... And now it's like he has done no progress at all over the past months. That's a whole new level of being pathetic.

"You're lucky Ashton," he tells Ashton, who glances at him. "You don't know loss. You don't know what it's like when all the- all the good things seem like a thing of the past." In the back of his head, he knows he's ranting like an old person. He opens his heavy eyelids and stares at his friend. "You ever had your heart broken?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? How long did you date her for?" 

"Five weeks one summer."

"That's not heartbreak, that's adolescence. You ever lost a best friend?" 

"Sometimes I feel like I'm losing you."

Louis snorts. "I'm a cunt and you know it. No, listen, you don't know loss. And I – I suppose it's all relative. What is loss to you is insignificant to me, and I don't mean to belittle your asinine life experiences, man, but fuck your asinine life experiences. Like when you asked me why I'm living in that house in the middle of nowhere, I'll tell you, fine. I'll tell you. Maybe because I can't lose anything there, alright? When you ain't got nothing, you've got nothing to lose. And I'm so sick of losing people. People do that, you know. They just decide not to care about me. So I do the same in return. Serves them right."

He's just talking about Harry. Louis knows Ashton is aware of that. "But you care."

"I don't." Louis laughs, "I don't give a fuck."

"You do a lot of walking away, but you still care. You can't switch off your heart." He sounds wise beyond his years just then, and Louis crinkles his nose in disapproval at all the sense he is making. "You walked away from you family, but you still love them, you love your sister, and your parents, though we both know you barely visit." Louis wants to say something. That's just...that their lifestyle is not really his anymore. He has stopped praying for forgiveness a long time ago, but Ashton keeps talking. "You walked away from Harry to be with Eleanor, but you still cared about him. And even now when you left to be alone, you came back. You are here now. You still care."

"I might." Louis says. He does. He cares. He just wishes he didn't. "Do you think a person can ever redeem himself for all the wrong he's done?" he asks quietly.

"Why not? Do you think God is keeping score?" he counters, though he knows Louis doesn't believe in that anymore "I don't think he is. I'd like to think that... if God exists, then he is too great, too amazing to give a rat's ass about what humans do."

"So redemption is up to us, then?"

"It is up to us. But people can change. I believe that people can change." Louis gathers his courage before asking

"Do you think I need to change?" He laughs slightly. 

"I, uh. I can't answer that."

That's probably a yes. But the guilt Louis feels mixes with anger. He did wrong. He can recognize that. But Harry wasn't any better.

"Look, I know it's not my place, but..." Ashton then begins softly. "It sounds like he was a bit wishy-washy about you two ending... And he talks about you on the radio, I heard. Don't think I didn't notice. Maybe he still –"

"I've been down that road myself. It's a dead end." Louis says. "But –"

"No."

"But –"

"Ashton," Louis snaps impatiently. "No." He can't deal with any more false hope. "I'm angry with him, and I saw him tonight. He's okay without me. He's okay. I want to forget him."  
"But you loved him. You love him." Ashton sounds so disappointed.

"I did. I do." Louis admits, "And he knew it. And he kept stringing me along." 

"But –"

"But what?!" Louis barks angrily. The bottle is empty now. "What do you want me to say?! That I fucked up back then when I chose Eleanor? That all that wouldn't have happened if I had made the right call back then?! I know that! It was the biggest mistake of my life and I've been wishing I could take it back since it happened! It doesn't matter what I say because it doesn't change anything. Maybe he just wanted revenge. Well, he got it."

"Maybe you should talk to him again, maybe it will change-"

"I can't change the past." Louis interrupts. "I have to live with it. I didn't deserve what he did to me, and he didn't deserve what I put him through, so maybe we're both better off this way. Never to see each other again. It's... It's got to be better this way." Louis dangles the empty bottle in a loose fist. Feels the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Loving someone like that isn't right," Louis says quietly. "When you do it for all the wrong reasons."

Ashton lets out a barely audible sigh. "God, you're so stubborn," he mutters. "I'm not saying get back together. You two – you've got some severe issues, so I'm not. I'm not saying that. But you weren't just a dysfunctional quasi-couple, you were friends too. You guys connected. So have you ever... thought about the fact that you need to at least talk to him about what happened? That it will always haunt you if you don't?" When Louis doesn't reply, he sighs. "Louis. You're not moving on. You're just finding new places to hide."

Louis won't tell him he's right. And there's truth to his words, that his silence and Harry's silence or, on the other hand, Harry talking about him on the radio show... It can be interpreted in so many ways.  
Ashton now digs into his pocket and hands him a wrinkled paper napkin. "Here. I got you this."

Louis stares at it. A address "What is this?" 

"It's where he lives now." Something heavy settles in him from the knowledge, followed by a silent buzz.

He quickly looks away, but the address is already burned into his memory, some part of him desperate to know. To have a way of locating him.

He doesn't ask Ashton how he's got it. He has his ways.

"What do you want me to do with this?" Louis asks, his voice suddenly rough. He feels way too sober all of sudden.

"Get rid of a few ghosts." He leans back in his chair. Shrugs. "It's his day off tomorrow."

And he says it like it's final. That's that. Checkmate.

Louis looks at the address again. A gateway to Harry. Some peace. A bit of closure.

Getting rid of a few ghosts. 

x x x

"What if I'm still mad at him?"

"You're not," Ashton says knowingly. Louis hates it when he's right. The snowfall is slowing down, and Louis shifts in his seat uncomfortably and feels the seatbelt scraping the side of his neck. "I'm nervous for you," Ashton concludes, the excitement now back. Louis doesn't need his nerves, support or shoulder to cry on. Ashton has no idea how much his enthusiasm wears Louis out.

"Take the next left," Ashton commands, and Louis changes lanes. "You know, I wonder what he's like, when he sees you, god I-"

Louis pulls up to the curb, coming to a fast stop. Ashton tenses up, eyes wild as he looks around. "What are you doing?"

"Here, your stop," Louis tells him and points out of his window to a shop door that has green, cursive letters: C-A-F-É. "Go get yourself coffee."

Ashton's mouth drops open dramatically. "I'm coming with you!"

Louis grits his teeth and smiles. "No, you're not." Louis glares at him, and he glares back. "Out, Ashton! Out!"

Ashton throws his hands up into the air. "You're seriously not letting me witness the reunion that would make Romeo and Juliet seem like –"

"There was no reunion for those two – they died."

"Oh." Ashton pulls on his bottom lip uncertainly, but recovers quickly. "You are right."

Louis unbuckles himself and gets out of the car. The air is cold, snowflakes landing on his black coat and melting into it. He rounds the car and opens Ashton's door.

"Okay, okay!" Ashton shouts, lifting up his hands. "I'm out! See! Look at how out I am!" He scrunches his nose at the cold, looking more comic than hurt as he shoots Louis a nasty look.

"I'll come get you later," Louis promises.

"I feel like an abandoned, unwanted kitten –"

Louis doesn't hear the rest as the door slams shut and he takes off. 

x x x

He takes his bag to the door with him. It's presumptuous, but whatever. The door opens on the fifth ring.

"Ye –"

The rest of Harry's sentence fades away as his eyes land on him. Harry looks a little older, which makes Louis realize just how overdue he is. He still has that youthful look on him though. His dark hair is messy, and Harry looks like he just got out of his bed. He looks good.

"I heard you are a little radio starlet now."

Harry doesn't look surprised to see him. Louis is not a predictable man; Harry could at least gasp a little. The tiniest bit. Just to amuse him. Even Louis’ fucking surprised that he's here.

"Luke said he saw you in the crowd. But he wasn't sure. I didn't- I mean, I-" Well. Maybe he's not surprised. But he's speechless. That's at least something.

"Ashton gave me your address. And then he kept bugging me to visit you." Louis explains. Feels like he has to.

"Yeah, sounds like him." Harry nods tiredly, eyes averting, the cornered prey after an exhausting hunt where he is the deer and Louis is the wolf.

After a long, long time, neither one of them seem to be running.

"Invite me in for a beer."

Harry shakes his head. "I'm busy." 

"I'm busy too, but here I am anyway."

His stomach curls up now that he's in his presence, but Harry doesn't sense it.

This whole meeting seems absurd. Anticlimactic. Like something big should have happened. His heart is beating in his chest like crazy, but that seems almost too normal to him.  
Harry sighs and holds the door open, and Louis steps into the living room, throws his bag onto the couch. Being here, traveling across the country for the one guy, the only guy who ever came out to look at the night sky with him and invent new constellations, and he – Fucking hell. Louis will stand his ground and act his best to convince himself that it means nothing to him.

"One beer, but then I have to go," Harry mutters and heads for the kitchen, and Louis stares after him quietly. He slows down and turns back around, a hesitating look on his face. "We are hosting a live show again tonight. Luke and I. You wanna come?"

"Sure."

Harry looks straight at him, and Louis is right back there at their bench, outside in the park, where he met him. He's at the restaurant with him, at Tony's, laughing at his silly jokes. He is in Harry's little apartment, drinking tea, watching the rain, Bobby curled into his side. Harry watching him fondly. He is in his old apartment kissing him for the first time, alcohol on his lips and a bottle pointing at him. He's at the hotel, handing some part of him that Harry didn't want. Saying the words for the first time. Meaning them. He is on the rooftops of Simon's bar, kissing him under the stars. He's in his old apartment picking a fight with him, and then making love to him on Nick's couch. Intense. Too intense. Harry shaking in his arms afterward. So close. Heart to heart.

Louis takes a deep breath. Heart in his throat. Harry says, "I can get you a backstage pass."

"Could you get two?"

"For who?" His voice is tense.

"My stalker." Louis chuckles. Ashton kind of is.

Harry makes a disbelieving 'tut' with his tongue. "You sure know how to pick your friends."

"And lovers, though he's not one of those," Louis says calculatedly. Harry doesn't deny that that's what he was asking. "I can get two."

"Thanks." Louis says. And this is too easy. Shouldn't something happen? A fire? A crash? Something, so this doesn't feel as...simple as it does?

Harry points at his bag. "You staying here tonight?"

"If you let me," Louis shrugs. He hoped he would ask. But if he wouldn't have Louis would have stayed at Franco's place. Already sick of the small couch Ashton provided him with.  
Harry nods a bit nervously and heads for the kitchen. The weird feeling of the situation doesn't leave Louis alone.

And he's pretty sure that this is just the calm before the storm.


	24. SCAB AND PLASTER

"A backstage pass!" Ashton says, delighted. "I've never had one before." He eyes the sticker he's pressed to his shirt like it's made of gold, his thick coat hanging open despite the cold. Louis smokes vigorously as they walk. He hears the heavy thud of his heart in his ears.

"Nice of him to get us backstage passes!" Ashton sounds all together pleased.

"I'm guessing it went well," Ashton now muses, grinning broadly. "Was he happy to see you?"

"I don't think so."

Louis sucks in smoke. His hands feel sweaty for no reason. Ashton frowns. "No? But… What did you do?"

"We had a beer and talked about the weather."

Ashton snorts. Louis is not lying. They sat there in his living room, Harry decidedly on the other couch, and they talked about the heavy snowfall. Harry didn't ask him why he had showed up, what the hell he was up to, nothing. Like his arrival wasn't surprising to him at all, though he couldn't have been any more closed off.

Keeping his distance. Louis briefly asked about his new job, Harry said it was alright, he is just tired, and then they took turns sipping their beers, the silence awkward, tense and heavy.  
No matter what's happened between them, it's never been like this before. This forced.

"He's probably just overwhelmed," Ashton says confidently. Underwhelmed, more like.

"Listen," Louis says when they're almost at the venue. He takes a hold of Ashton's shoulder. Kids are lining up outside already although the doors won't open for another hour. Ashton is buzzing but Louis needs him to focus. "Just keep your head on when we go in there, alright? don't –"

"Don't be rude, don't be nosy, don't be overbearing," he lists, rolling his eyes. "When have I ever been any of those things?"

Louis blinks. "You're kidding me, right?" He huffs.

"And about Harry," Louis then adds, "Don't try to be a match-maker or whatever you–"

"I can be discreet!" Him? Discreet? That'll be the day. "Honestly, Louis, don't you worry."

"Come on," Louis says, rolling his eyes and placing a hand on the back of his neck to guide him. They have only taken a few steps into the lobby, not even having been asked by the security if they are supposed to be here, when he spots Harry coming down the stairs, and Harry spots him, and he stops, and Louis’ heart plummets, and Louis stops, and his hand leaves the back of Ashton's neck incredibly fast.

Ashton follows Louis’ gaze and then breaks into a smile. "Oh, hey!" he says. He glances at Louis briefly and whispers, "I swear he gets better looking every time I see him, doesn't he?" from the corner of his mouth, all confidential-like, and Louis feels just the right amount mortified. Then Harry slowly descended a few more steps, and Ashton has made his way over so Louis follows.

Harry's look is one of apprehension. "Harry, you remember Ashton."

"It's nice to see you again, Harry." Ashton says, grabbing Harry's hand and shaking it vigorously.

"Yeah." he says, glancing from Ashton to Louis. "That your stalker?" 

"Maybe the word stalker was exaggerated," Louis says.

"No, it kind of wasn't," Ashton disagrees. Like he's proud of the fact. "I totally had to follow him to the middle of fucking nowhere to get him-"

"Ashton."

He glances at him and Ashton shuts up immediately. He finally pulls his hand back and says, "Never mind." He pouts like a kid that's been told off.

"Well, you're just in time for soundcheck," Harry then says, and he's not really looking at Louis. He hasn't really looked at him since he arrived: his eyes look his way but never at him. Harry is not looking at Ashton either, though, and Louis feels awkward and out of place, just like he did in his living room. But here he is, whether Harry likes it or not. Here he is. For better or worse.

Thankfully Ashton takes over, asking Harry about the setlist and his new job, and what bands he likes the most tonight and if he's nervous going on stage between bands, and Ashton's got a good way with people, and Harry seems okay enough conversing with him.

Then they are in the hall itself, crossing the soon-to-be crowded floor, and Louis sees a handful of guys on stage, setting up the gear. He recognizes one of them: the green haired punk from the last show setting up amplifiers, and next to him is a blonde guy, who's talking to him, more with his hands than with his words. A door by the side of the stage takes them up a flight of steps, and then they are backstage.

The backstage area looks like it's also crowded by friends of the bands, a handful of tech's, all hanging out, beers in hand, a few guitars in distribution. Relaxed and friendly. Some of them, however, are not chilling out but have work to do, keep calling back and forth instructions on how the stage should be set.

Harry's green eyes meet his, and for an instant Louis considers averting his gaze, like the direct eye contact is too much. He perseveres in any case. He feels a rush of blood from it. "I've got something to do," Harry says simply. Dismissively.

"We can mingle in the meanwhile," Ashton suggests, enthusiastic as ever as he keeps looking at the people present.

But they don't have to mingle or do awkward rounds of introduction because their arrival is noticed just then.

"Oh, Louis! Wow, it's been a while! You still know who I am, right?"

"I gotta go," Harry says easily, like it's easy, like any of this is easy. And then he walks away with quick steps, looking a lot like he is escaping. Brushing Louis off. Passing him on to be someone else's problem.

"Of course, Luke." Louis smiles, shaking his hand. "You remember Ashton?" 

"Yeah, of course! From the ice-skating, right?"

"That's me!" Ashton grins, and shakes his hand.

"So..." Louis starts, "Do you guys host these kinda shows often?"

"Yeah, yeah" Luke nods, "We have been doing these radio shows for a while now. It gets wild!" Luke promises, and laughs. "C'mon, meet the other guys!"

The other guys are the blond guy and the green-haired punk Louis has seen on stage just a few moments ago. They introduce themselves, and Louis notices how the blonde's handshake is firm, his grip strong. He has blue eyes, which Louis notices now that they're face to face. Louis remembers how he has seen him drumming, his blond hair glued to his forehead, and how different he looked comparing to now. "Pleased to meet you." he now says, not overly fazed by meeting someone new.

Bartolomeo is tall close up or afar, nearing six foot four. He shakes his hand like he is a man with a backbone, a certain sturdiness of character to him that Louis can't quite put his finger on. It's immediately clear that he is the type of man who gets things done.

"Luke said you were at the last show..." Bartolomeo says, as a conversation starter.

"I had somewhere to be so I headed out before you guys finished," Louis lies. "But yeah, good show."

"Thanks man."

Someone says that Harry is busy checking the setlist, so Louis doesn't look around for him, except that he does, constantly even, and eventually he spots him reappearing.

Harry walks like he's in a hurry, which understandably he is. A few guys are following him, negotiating over the stage set up most likely, and he's giving orders, pointing in directions. It's controlled chaos, and he's at the heart of it. It's captivating beyond words, and Louis finds it difficult to look away.

Ashton was right when he said that Harry is even better looking. He's handsome. This is not a revelation, but Harry seems taller now. Somehow. He looks tired, but who isn't at this day and age? His eyes are still full of depths, his lips still pillowy, soft, inviting, his body still enticing, lean and taut. His hair is curly and dark, now longer, making it look messier. He still smiles these smiles that make Louis’ heart stutter inside his chest.

God, it's hard to look away.

He's beautiful, unattainably beautiful and It feels like someone's twisting the knife in the wound.

Harry isn't looking around in search of him at all.

Ashton munches on mini-sandwiches and drinks free beer, making friends with a few band guys and tech's who are hanging around. Bartolomeo and that blond guy which name Louis can't really remember...what was it? Caleb? Something like that, are talking to him.

It's harder than usual for him to concentrate on the conversations going on around him. His mind flows back to Harry's apartment, sitting in the living room in silence. He's so overly aware of Harry's presence in this venue, and Louis keeps thinking 'what is he thinking?' Because he doesn't know and he has no idea where to even start, and his hands keep sweating.

Harry's ignoring him and pretending that he's not even here. That much is for certain.

The others laugh and joke but Louis’ not listening.

He is here to see Harry, and he doesn't know if Harry really gets that but he's doing a wonderful job at avoiding him.

x x x

The after-party is loud and unrestrained. The club is packed, and Luke and Louis have to yell over the music to hear each other speak. "I'm so glad you liked the show, man." he yells.  
"It was good. You and Harry do a great job."

"Thanks. Really, thanks." He grins broadly, drunk. Louis should take that beer away from the kid.

They're on the mezzanine floor of the club, leaning against the railing and looking down at the sweaty sea of people. His eyes follow one in particular but Louis tries not to be obvious about it. Luke asks, "How long are you in town then?"

"Not sure."

Louis keeps his gaze on the lower floor: Harry. He's so fucking charming. He is. Louis sees him mingling, talking to people, laughing, hugging. That green-haired punk is with him for all of it.  
"Are you staying at a hotel?" 

"No, I'm staying at Harry's."

This stops Lukes good mood, his drunk smile fading slightly. He gazes at the club below. "So you and Harry, huh?" he then says, smiles crookedly. For a second Louis’ insides vanish. Did Harry say something, did he – "I mean. You don't seem the type y'know? To be gay, I mean." He nods energetically. "It surprised me, when I found out about the, uh, affair. And everything that went down before that with Eleanor. I was- was blown away. And he and Nick seemed so solid too." Luke cackles. "But turns out Nick wasn't good enough for him," He laughs a bit, before shrugging in a 'what can you do?'- way, "But hey, you weren't either, so what gives?"

"Harry said that?" Louis asks, trying to remain calm. His blood feels icy. Who else knows about that?

"I'm saying that. I had a- a front row seat to that breakup. Man," he chuckles, "man, what a mess. Don't know if I've ever seen two men more broken-hearted, dude."

"I've got somewhere to be," Louis says. He's not going to stand here and listen to that.

"Hey, come on. Hey, where are you going?" he calls after him, but Louis doesn't look back.

x x x

The light of the streetlamp outside Harry's apartment flickers once every two minutes. Louis counts the seconds. And once every two minutes, there's a sudden flicker of shadows across the white living room ceiling.

Harry's couch is surprisingly comfortable, all things considered. He gave Louis a pillow and a duvet, and his bedroom door is closed. Louis keeps looking at its impenetrable wooden surface, visible through the archway that adjoins the living room to a smaller room. And from his place on the couch, he's got a perfect view of Harry's closed door. He told him where the bathroom was, but he didn't offer to give Louis a tour. Harry's keeping him on the outskirts.

Louis can't sleep.

Five in the morning, estimate. The loud music of the club still rings in his ears. He didn't talk to Harry all night. Didn't talk in the taxi back here either. Just sat at the opposite ends of the backseat like two strangers, looking out of the window. Breathing in the silence. He is beginning to realize that this was a mistake. A miscalculation on his part.

He came here, he caved in, he made the effort. What is Harry doing in return? Why isn't he even trying?

Maybe because this is a form of punishment – he's taking him for a ride. He could have just said that he didn't want him here. Save them both this torture, this silence, this tension that is thicker than air. Not let him in only to shoot him down. Put him in his place.

Louis rubs his face tiredly, trying not to swear. The light flickers... and flickers... and flic–

A slight creak. A door. Footsteps.

Louis instantly rises to rest on his elbows, looking to the direction of Harry's room and stares at the dark figure that's emerged. Watch as it enters the living room and turns the lights on.  
Harry stands in the arched doorway in blue pyjama pants, his hair a mess. Like he's been tossing and turning. But this doesn't make him appear like a softer, more intimate version of the man who was controlling the stage earlier: it's the same man.

He's not avoiding eye contact now. He's looking straight at Louis and Louis’ insides twist and turn.

Harry opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He tries again. Fails. He sighs. Finally says, "What are you doing here?" His tone is tired and defeated. It's not what Louis wanted him to say.

"I don't know."

It's the most honest answer he can give.

Harry sighs and, after a beat, walks in further, and Louis rises to sit on the couch, the duvet pooling in his lap. Harry sits down on the couch adjacent to his, his shoulders slumped. Confused.Harry lifts his feet to rest against the edge of the coffee table. Crooks his toes. Looks pensive.

"I thought maybe you wanted to see me," Louis then says quietly, hating how naïve and childish it sounds.

Harry smiles to himself crookedly. "What gave you that idea?" 

"Some things."

Like talking about him on his radio show more times than Louis can count.

"Maybe I just want to put it all behind me." Harry looks at him with tired eyes. "Did that occur to you?"  
There. The truth.

He just wants this to be over.

Louis looks away from him. He will gather his shit in the morning. Get out of here. Back to nowhere. Leave him to his life.

"Of course that occurred to me," Louis says so quietly that he doubts Harry hears him, but the hurt in his tone is pathetically audible. Of course he thought about that.  
They're both silent for a long while, and Louis can't think of ways to break it. Maybe that's it, then. Louis got his answer: there's nothing but mutual disappointment left.

But then Harry sighs. "What have you done to your hair?" Louis looks at him, confused. 

"What?"

"You need to get it cut." Harry sounds irritated.

In confusion, Louis touches the strands that touch his shoulders. Longer than it's ever been.

"I'll cut it."

"Sorry?"

"I said I'm going to cut it." He stands up. He doesn't look at him but goes to the kitchen, switching the lights on in there.  
What the hell?

Louis pushes the covers aside and carefully follows him, straightening the white undershirt that'll do for nightwear, tugging the hem of it over the waistband of his black boxer briefs. In the kitchen, Harry has already got scissors out and he's pulled a chair from the small table to the middle of the room. He's got a apartment, but it's not a big one, and neither has it been recently built.

"Sit down," Harry instructs, "I need a comb, hang on."

Louis sits down on the chair as Harry goes to get whatever else he needs. It's the middle of the night, they haven't slept, neither one of them, and now he's in Harry's silent kitchen, waiting for him to cut his hair. Maybe he did fall asleep and this is all a dream.

When Harry comes back, comb with him, Louis asks, "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"I worked at a barber shop. The guy who ran it made me cut people's hair...I had...Nothing better to do after I had to drop out of college." Harry busies himself aligning the comb with the scissors on the table, clearly not wanting to discuss the context of what he just said. There's nothing Louis can say to that. Louis could tell him he's sorry – Harry would tell him to fuck off.

When Harry moves to stand behind him, scissors in hand, Louis finds it hard to breathe. Unable to see him but sensing his presence. His heart is beating fast. But at least now he doesn't have to worry that his gaze on Harry's bare upper half would be inappropriate somehow. He looks good shirtless, the outlines of pronounced muscles visible on his stomach and chest, taut and smooth. Louis didn't mean to look – it's more memory that the visual merely triggers.

Still, Harry is close to him. Standing right behind him. "Aren't you going to ask me how short I want it?"  
He doesn't reply.

The first touch is soft. The press of calloused fingertips to the back of his head. Suddenly, Louis’ holding his breath. Every sense is electrified, and then his touch is all he can feel. His body hair pricks up everywhere, goose bumps appearing on his arms. The comb begins to go through the hair, and his fingers brush the locks.

"God, your hair is ridiculous," Harry says, sounding genuinely angry. Despite the hesitant start, once he starts straightening his hair, he stops being gentle. He soon takes a hold of a strand of hair, lifting it, and then Louis hears the first snip. Hairs fall onto the top of his back. Harry instantly does it again. The snips feel violent, like Harry would rather just stick the scissors to Louis’ throat and be done with it.

"Don't move!" he says when Louis wasn't even moving. "You'll fuck it up." There's an obvious angry bite to his words. He combs through the locks again. Snip. Snip, snip, snip. The palm of his hand presses Louis’ head to lean on one side. He snips dangerously close to his right earlobe. "Out of all nights," Harry says, moving to the back again, "all damn nights to show up, it had to be tonight, huh? Showing up at my door? Like it's that –" Snip, "easy."

"I don't want anything."

"Yes, you do." He almost laughs. "Of course you do. You always want something. And it always puts me in an awkward position when you're around... Look down." Louis does, stares at his bare knees. The comb goes through the hairs at the nape of his neck. "Where the fuck have you been anyway?"

"What do you mean?" Louis asks, maybe to push his buttons. Harry lets out an irritated sigh. "Away."

Harry stops his assault on Louis’ hair, and Louis has no reason to believe he's even trying to make it look good. Maybe ruining his hair will be some kind of revenge. "What? So you fuck off all alone and I-"

"Ashton was there." Louis corrects him. He doesn't mention how he did in fact spend most time alone. It doesn't matter. Harry doesn't have the right to get angry about it either way.  
Harry scoffs. "What great company."

"I wouldn't be here without him turning on the radio once in a while." This is a straight dig at Harry's statements in his radio shows, and he knows that. Harry presses his fingers against Louis’ neck too hard and continues to cut. "Ashton is my best friend." But Harry clearly pissed off at something. Louis doesn't know what. "What's pissing you off?"

"Nothing." Harry returns, tone icy cold. 

"Sure. You are all sunshine and rainbows." For that, Louis earns a slight smack to the back of his head, or what could have been a smack, or could have been just Harry brushing his hair a bit too hard. "Shut up." Lufy says, and right now it's worrying that he's holding a pair of scissors.

Louis doesn't shut up. Instead he asks, "Does everyone know about us now?" 

"What? What do you mean?"

"Luke said something." Louis says. And Harry huffs and mumbles something that sounds like 'Chatterbox' under his breath.

"So do they know? Does Taylor know? What about your new friends? The punk and the pretty flower which name I forgot."  
"You mean Caleb." Ah. So his name was Caleb after all. Harry cuts hair at the top. Louis feels the weight of cut off locks on his shoulders. "Caleb and Bartolomeo don't know. Most people don't. Well, Zayn knows everything. What doesn't he know?"

Louis knows all about nosy friends and it isn't a surprise that Zayn knows everything. The fucker probably had the best time of his life hearing about Louis getting his nose smashed by Nick.

Harry moves to Louis’ sides now, and Louis watches as brown curls of discarded hair topple down his shoulders. The lowest part of his neck feels bare as he got used to the feel of hair against it. Harry cuts fast and with sure movements, and as he cuts a bit too close to Louis’ ear, he says, "Why did you leave?"

"I needed to get away." The 'from you' is left unsaid, but Louis knows that Harry is aware of what he means.

Harry scoffs angrily, genuine hurt in his words. "I know that what I did wasn't right. I knew that. But I was confused, I couldn't bring myself to trust you. But you didn't need to tell Nick- I...would have liked to tell him myself."

He couldn't trust him. It hurts more than Louis likes to admit. Harry keeps picking at the scab. "It was stupid, but in that moment I didn't really think about it, I just wanted-"

"See? There's the difference. I would have never told Eleanor, if that means it would make you unhappy. But you just-" He draws in a shaky breath, now cutting hair on the other side, moving from the peripheral vision on Louis’ left to his right. "You just wanted to hurt me again." He takes a step back. Ruffles Louis’ hair. Now steps in front of him, as if to check how his hair falls. He doesn't look at Louis’ face, only sorts out the now shorter curls. Clearly not pleased with it yet, he moves back to Louis’ side and cuts more carefully this time. At length, he says, "I know what I did was not fair to you, I know that. And if you think it was easy for me, you are mistaken. I don't expect you to forgive me." But Louis has already. "But I don't-" He sighs. "You need to understand that I had my reasons. That I just couldn't chose you." He steps back again. Runs fingers through Louis’ hair, rough finger pads brushing against his scalp. A thousand memories flash before his eyes. That same touch repeated, one year from the next.

"There, I'm done."

When Louis looks at him, he's chewing on his bottom lip, arms wrapped around his bare middle. He's eyeing his hair critically and he's got hair stuck to his pyjama pants. "You wanna see it?"

"Sure."

When he stands up, hair falls off of him and onto the floor. The chair is surrounded by plentiful locks of hair, and Louis’ taken aback how much it looks like. Harry leads the way as Louis brushes his shirt, bits of hair everywhere, brushing his shoulders where miniscule hairs prickle against his skin.

The bathroom is next to his bedroom. Harry opens the door and switches the light on, motioning him to step inside. Harry remains leaning against the doorway. Louis looks at himseld in the mirror, expecting the worst, but he's actually done a good job. As rough as his cutting felt at times, he hasn't taken his rage out on his hair, and it's not as short as Louis thought it was: it's off his shoulders, but curls still fall over his earlobes. It's neater. Doesn't look hopelessly unkempt the way it did. Harry clearly got skills Louis didn't know he had.

"It looks good," Louis says. 

"I know."

Harry meets his eyes in the mirror.

"Where does that leave us?" Harry drops his gaze, but Louis goes on, anyway, turning around to face him. "I mean you and me. Where does that all leave us?"

"Nowhere, I guess." Harry shrugs. Sounds indifferent. Nowhere. Right. Where else? Harry looks at the floor before lifting his gaze again, brown eyes focusing on Louis. "But it's good to see you."

"You too."

He does a fleeting half-smile, like he'd like to smile but it hurts too much. He turns away, disappearing from the doorway. Louis pulls his shirt off, brushing his shoulders and chest to get the cut hair off, but it feels like it's everywhere. Harry is coming out of the kitchen as Louis gets to the living room, his hand on the switch as the lights disappear behind him. He holds his balled up shirt in one hand. Harry swiftly looks away from his mostly undressed form, says, "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight." Louis steps aside since he's blocking the doorway, ready to return to the couch. They both move slowly, him heading back to the bedroom as Louis approaches the couch, and they move like they're trying to keep a respectable amount of distance between themselves.

He's already out of the room, the lights off once more, when he stops and turns back around. "Tomorrow's Taylor's engagement party. I know she invited you." So he did know. "You should come."  
He throws it out there casually, lets it hang in the air. Louis doesn't know what he's offering.

"You don't want me gone?"

That's what Louis thought he'd want. Cut his hair and kick him out. Apparently.

Now that it's darker, it takes more effort to see the look on his face, but even with better light Louis would be left clueless.

"You should come. Show off your new haircut." He pauses slightly. "They miss you. Taylor and Kendall..." Right. So they are the reason. "You should come along as a friend."

"...friend?" Harry shrugs. "Alright. Okay. I will come along as your friend."

Harry exhales a bit too quickly, almost a huff. Like he doesn't really agree with that label, like it's too intimate, and Louis know it is. They're not friends anymore. But if that's what he's offering...

Who knows with him?

Sleep doesn't come any easier after that.

The streetlamp's light flickers and Harry's door remains closed. 

x x x

Luke shows up at ten o'clock with freshly baked doughnuts. Harry isn't expecting him and seems confused by his presence, voice hushed – as if the doorbell hadn't woke Louis up already.

"Yeah, man, I just came to pick up my shirt and, uh, I brought doughnuts and, well. Doughnuts!" Luke sounds like he thinks this is an adequate explanation. Louis rises onto his elbows on the couch, tiredly rubbing his face with one hand as he cranes his neck to look at them. Luke sees him and says, "Morning!" Harry closes the door after his friend.

Louis does a half-assed hand lift. "Hey, man." He tries to sound sleepier than he is: for the past twenty minutes he's been listening to Harry moving about the house. Wondering when to get up, what to say, how to behave. He wonders if Harry slept at all because he didn't. He only dozed off here and there.

Maybe Luke came to check that they haven't killed each other or that – or that Louis actually slept on the couch, or maybe he just wants to help with the awkwardness of it all. Either way, Luke repeats, "Doughnuts!" and holds up a brown paper bag with darkened grease smudges on it. He smiles. "Thought it'd be a –" Luke stops. Frowns. "Dude, what happened to your hair?"

"Uhm." He looks to Harry, unsure of what to say.

Harry has showered – Louis heard the water running – and he's gotten dressed into blue jeans and a red-blue plaid shirt, casual. Home wear.

Louis tries to meet his gaze but he quickly looks elsewhere. "Coffee, Luke?" Harry asks, and Luke nods uncertainly, looking between the two of them with a deepening frown. "Louis, you want coffee?" Harry asks as he heads to the kitchen, having taken Luke doughnuts.

"Yeah, thanks." Louis gets out of bed – well couch, not bed – and Luke keeps looking at him like he demands an explanation or at least would appreciate one. Louis stands still awkwardly, the lighter weight of his hair still new. He points over his shoulder, feeling nervous for no reason. "I think I'll grab a shower."

"...Okay." Luke worries on his bottom lip and then looks mildly embarrassed. Like he's walked in on something he shouldn't have. Louis grabs his bag and confronts the situation by not confronting it. Instead he takes a quick shower, using Harry's products.

Louis gets dressed in the bathroom and towels off his hair. A plain white mug stands on the sink edge with a toothbrush and a half-emptied toothpaste tube in it. Harry's toothbrush. In his bathroom. In his apartment.

Harry's settled down. This is his home.

It's been a while since he stayed at a place that Harry would call 'his'. Louis doesn't count Nick's and Harry's apartment – that wasn't a home, that was a joke.  
Well... Good for him. Really.

When Louis gets to the kitchen, Luke and Harry are sitting around the table. There's a quickly swept pile of Louis’ hair in the kitchen corner, and Luke must have seen it but they are not commenting on it.

"Sorry if it's cold," Harry says, pushing over a mug of coffee as Louis sits down. "No sugar, right?"

"Yeah."

Harry only nods, one hand on the side of his head, brushing strands of his hair. A nervous habit of his. Louis takes a sip from his coffee. Luke passes him a doughnut – it's still warm.  
Louis doesn't really know what to say so he pretends to be busy with his coffee and baked goods. The clock on the wall ticks. Harry taps his fingers against the table. Louis worries on his bottom lip. Luke looks between them. Frowns more. He then rushes out, "The funniest thing happened at the party last night!"

They both look at him, and Louis feels grateful for the intervention. Luke launches into a story involving Bartolomeo, tequila shots and straws. It's easier with Luke directing the conversation, when Harry and Louis can both focus on him. After his first story, he tells us another, then another. After a while, Louis has relaxed and stopped feeling like Harry's a time bomb about to go off. Harry hopefully feels the same about him.

Louis’ smiling at Luke stories when Harry puts away the empty paper bag where the donuts used to be. It clearly signals the end of breakfast.  
"I've promised Edward and Taylor that I will come over and help setting things up." Harry's eyeing the clock on the wall. "You still coming along tonight, yeah?"

It takes Louis a second to realize Harry's addressed the question at him. He sounds so natural asking it, no bite to his tone. More like an assumption. He's coming along, right? "Sure." Louis shrugs. "I've got no plans." Luke seems genuinely pleased.

"Hey, you asked her if it's okay if we come earlier?" 

"Uhh... I – I had other things on my mind." Harry says. Luke looks at Louis like he's the 'other things' but Harry only sighs, "I will call her."

Harry walks out of the room, probably to get his phone. And Luke leans a bit closer to him, "So what did I walk in on back there?"

"Sorry?"

"Oh come on." Luke's tone perfectly conveys the roll of his eyes. 

"Nothing. It was nothing. What do you care?"

"Fine." He sounds displeased but Louis doesn't know what to tell him. "You guys are okay, though, right?"

There's something extremely naïve in his question. Like everything can be fixed that easily. But in some ways, maybe he's a little bit right. Harry and him both know all the shit they have put each other through, but they seem to be... okay. They're not okay, of course they're not Okay with a capital O, but they're okay with what's happened. The unchangeable past. That past cannot necessarily be justified, but they have to accept it, anyway. As fact.

Because it happened. And they can either remain angry about it or just accept that they have to live with it. They have to live with it. And they're okay with this unpleasant fact. So he tells Luke, "Sure. We're alright."

"Yeah. That's good. But hey, I'm glad that you guys – Well, that's good news, in any case."

And he smiles happily, and Louis realizes that if Luke really is aware of what happened then he might has forgotten how ugly it got with Harry and him towards the end. How they were just trying to tear each other apart.

Savage and brutal.


	25. HOW HE SMILES

"You think Milk got shot because of politics? Please, let's not be naïve!" Bartolomeo declares to the room, all the seats around the oval living room table taken. "He got shot because he was a threat! An openly gay man in power? They don't allow that, they don't want to acknowledge that it doesn't matter if we suck cock or eat pussy, that we're still equal citizens!"

On Louis’ right, Ashton blushes from Bartolomeo's words, and Taylor looks quite flustered and embarrassed by Bartolomeo's frank tone. Bartolomeo doesn't even seem to be ranting to anyone in particular nor to all at once: he is merely ranting for the sake of ranting. Ashton keeps gazing either at Bartolomeo or at him because he 'likes Louis’ hair so much'.

Taylor and Edward's house is decorated like they have in mind to live here for the next twenty years, which they probably do: it's homey and full of dark wooden furniture with splashes of color like bright red curtains or a polka dot rug. It doesn't feel like a pretend home the way his own did or the way Harry's house does. Five uncorked bottles of wine stand on the table, some of them have beers, and nothing is left in the lasagne dishes.

"You know," Ashton says, "I'm glad you did something to your hair. You were beginning to look like a hobbit. A tall hobbit, but a hobbit nonetheless."

"Fuck you," Louis returns easily, but Ashton just looks like he'd want to touch his hair a little. Ashton's already asked him all about his day. He also said an obnoxious 'Well?' when he arrived, nodding at Harry. Well nothing. They're here. They're talking. That's it.

Louis can't help but feel like he's intruding.

But this, Louis supposes, is the life Harry's been living this past year and then some. These people. His own thing, his territory.

Watch Louis trespass because he can.

Edward's got his arm around Taylor's shoulder as he listens to Bartolomeo speaking, Bartolomeo's voice carrying from the other end of the table. "We can't let people forget. We can't content ourselves with the occasional sodomy Louis being repealed – we have to fight for our rights because gay men and women are not second class citizens. We pay the same shitty taxes, we have the same shitty jobs, we laugh at the same shitty jokes. I'm not saying we're identical, because we're not: we're persecuted. But we won't be victims." He stops at this, like that's his punch line.

Louis gives Edward a long look and mutters, "He sounds like he should be in politics."

"Business as usual," Edward assures him, and sure enough Bartolomeo just keeps going.

Turns out that the guy is quite the political activist if given the chance, mostly in the gay rights front. Gay rights, what even are those? But apparently it's his favorite conversation topic, and Edward has clearly heard this rant before.

"So he's gay." Louis says, and Edward nods, "Well, Simon and I are the only ones left on the hetero front. Barto over there," he nods at the green haired punk, "is openly gay. Obviously. And Harry is too, you know that, and Zayn as well, so Simon and I are in the minority, technically."

"So it's one big homo circus," Louis concludes for him.

"Basically, yeah." Edward laughs, "But it's fine. Simon and I can cope and-"

"Thanks for forgetting me." Luke pipes up, clinking his beer together with Edwards.

"Sorry, dude." Edward grins a little bit apologetic.

"I forgive you." Luke nods, and Edward laughs before he gets up and walks over to Taylor. She smiles at him, and...they seem happy. Of course they are, it's their engagement party after all.  
Luke takes the chance to scoot closer to him, he lets out a sigh, "But yeah, homo circus fits well. Like...I know what the guys get up to, you know? It's weird that I know that. Like Zayn doesn't really have a type and I've seen him sucking a guy's face more than once. Barto likes pretty boys with dark hair though he says he's after love, not sex, and Harry likes –" he starts but then cuts himself off sharply. Louis looks away and pretends that that didn't hurt, a sudden montage of mental images of Harry with other guys. "Um, I didn't mean... Harry doesn't –"

"Guess that's not my business anymore, right?"

Louis’ tone successfully contains his wish for Luke not to talk about it. Please don't talk about it. Luke nods slowly.

Harry is listening to Bartolomeo intently, though, and Bartolomeo looks at him frequently, as if for approval or validation, and he keeps giving Harry these friendly smiles that are warm and reach his eyes. Harry isn't avoiding Louis as such – they've been surrounded by people all evening, and he's addressed Louis often enough in these group discussions. He'll look his way and acknowledge him, but it's fake. Like obligation rather than genuine interest.

But at least some of that clear apprehension from last night is gone. Harry gets up while Bartolomeo is still talking, now to Zayn and Kendall. Louis watches Harry disappear into the kitchen. Ashton sees him looking, and Louis feels like he's been caught red-handed.

"So, you staying at Harry's tonight too?" Ashton inquires now. Louis nearly forgot he was next to him.

"Yeah, I guess."

They haven't actually talked about it.

Ashton smirks knowingly. Louis glares at him because that's delicate information, all their vicious past mistakes, and Louis was stupid enough to vouch for this blabbermouth.

"Harry and I agreed to be friends, alright?" Louis mutters under his breath, ensuring only he hears.

Ashton frowns at this and looks genuinely disappointed. "Really? But I thought..." His voice fades away. Louis knows what he thought: Romeo and Juliet without the death.

"You thought wrong." Louis finishes the rest of his beer. "If you'll excuse me."

Louis wants to escape his saddened face, like Ashton was really rooting for Harry and him, although he persisted that he only wanted him to get rid of a few ghosts. But Louis had no such foolish notions, and if he – If he did, then he's done with those. And it means nothing that he now goes to the kitchen and then pretends to be surprised when Harry is there, putting more beer into the fridge.  
His hip leans against the kitchen counter, and Louis nods back to the dining room. "Do you buy into that all? Bartolomeo and his gay rights."

Harry nods slowly. "Sure I do."

"It's funny how he talks about it. With such fire. You guys are kinda similar, right?" Louis asks carefully, not wanting to push his buttons. Harry frowns. "Well, just. Whatever."

It's awkward.

"Well..." Louis says, and Harry just looks at him like he's waiting for something. "I just wanted to say...I'm glad you found something that makes you happy."

"You...you mean my job?" Harry says, "Or...what? Because Barto and I aren't-" 

"No yeah, no. I mean. Yes. Your job, of course."

"Oh yeah." Harry offers him a smile now, and Louis’ heart shouldn't skip a beat at the sight, but it still does. "I wanted to team up with Luke before, but...well...I was working at Nick's shop and I...didn't really have the time, so..."

At least Louis helped him get rid of Nick. Right? Because Nick wasn't right for him, and they know that. Maybe they can at least acknowledge that, and Harry can hate him a little less.  
Well, this hasn't turned into a shouting match so far. "Do you keep in touch?"

Harry doesn't reply at first. Probably knows it's none of Louis’ business. "No. He...–Well, he said he didn't want to see me ever again. I probably deserved that." 

"I regret a lot about that time," Louis says.

"Look, I don't really want to talk about it." 

"Right."

His mouth is a thin line, but maybe he's right. Maybe they're better off not talking about it. They can't fix it, anyway.  
Harry doesn't hate him. Louis doesn't hate Harry. But they tire quickly, being around one another. All the memories, most of them bad ones. Louis keeps the good ones close to his heart though.

"Can you get us some more beers?" Zayn's voice calls from the dining room.

"Sure thing, man!" Harry calls back, now wiping his hands to his jeans and getting the beer out of the fridge again. Taylor walks in a second later and tells them to go sit down because they're her guests. Harry reluctantly leaves her to play the hostess although he insists that he doesn't mind helping her. "Shoo!" she says, her eyes laughing, and Harry chuckles, warmth in his gaze. Louis missed seeing that.

To Louis’ surprise, Ashton's taken over as the main speaker at the table, a wild smile on his face. "– right out in the middle of nowhere, by a big lake and-"

"Where is this?" Louis asks, sitting back next to him, watching Harry reclaim his seat by Barto.

"That house you rented!" he enthuses. "I said it's a great place for a vacation. Like a trip. With all of us."

"I thinks it's an awesome idea!" Kendall now says and she's grinning that sheepish smile of hers. Like she's planning something. Ashton nods, clearly enthusiastic. Taylor is beaming. Edward looks excited. And they are all looking at him expectantly.

...Oh.

Oh fuck.

"Oh, come off it, Ashton!" 

"What?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

But Ashton looks deadly serious.

"No! It's not that great anyway and I –"

"Well it's cheap cause you are paying rent and we can share, there are enough rooms, it's big, it's by a lake, there's a beach only half an hour away-"

"It's too cold to swim anyway." Louis argues and it only sounds like a desperate attempt. Ashton just gives him this look like he's made up his mind and that's that. Louis needs to reason with him. 

"Fuck, I don't mean to sound like a dick, alright? But it's really not that nice."

"Louis, we don't have much money for a big trip." Emotional blackmail. Louis frowns.

"God, Ashton. That's not...God, it's a really bad idea." Louis on vacation with them...with Harry?

"What is?" Harry's voice now asks.

"Louis has a big home by a lake and Taylor said she needs a vacation so Kendall said hey, why not take one together and I was like...hell yeah." Ashton spells out before Louis can stop him and fuck, why would Ashton do that? Louis is sure Ashton is high as a kite.

Louis shakes his head. "I already turned him down." He doesn't want Harry to think it was his idea.

But Harry merely blinks. "Why?"

...Wait. What?

"...Why I said no?" Louis clarifies, and Harry nods, looking at him intently with his brown eyes that Louis can hardly stand because they've become such a definition of the perfect shade of brown. Louis did not expect him to say that. Why? Well, because. Him and Louis – That'd be. "It's not that nice." Harry shrugs, and now he looks at Louis like he's waiting for his second reason. "Well, it just wouldn't work."

That isn't much of a reason, but Louis doesn't know what to say. He doesn't think Harry would even consider it, but he is. Clearly. He'd travel with him? He wouldn't mind having Louis around constantly? Louis guesses not. So he's the one with the problem here, not him. Fuck. Does he expect Louis to sit here and tell him that no, he doesn't want to help the guys out, Taylor, Kendall, or him, a person who- who Louis cares deeply about, despite all, because deep down seeing Harry has rattled him? That something at Louis’ core stirs up when he sees him? Does Harry expect Louis to own up to that?

"I just thought that, I don't know... you'd think it's a bad idea."

And Louis hates how apologetic he sounds saying it. He's sick and tired of apologizing to him because he is sorry but he's paid for it, and Harry wasn't perfect either, so there.  
Ashton looks between them, and Harry's expression is perfectly illegible.

"I think it would be great" Luke now pipes up. "We all took a vacation from work around the same time anyway because we wanted to do something. And we don't have that much money and a lake, a beach and house in the middle of nowhere sounds pretty damn nice to me. We could go hiking, walk into the woods, go in town for some beers and generally have a good time together."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," Harry says at last. "I mean we have a two weeks break anyway and the rest is vacation. Edward and Taylor took 4 weeks off, and the rest did too. It would be perfect."  
Wait. What?

"So you want us all to take a vacation...together?" Louis clarifies, motioning around the room, but only meaning himself here. Together, like; You and me? Are you sure that's what you want, Harry? because ever since Louis got here, he's gotten the feeling Harry wants him to leave.

Harry shrugs in a 'why not?' way. "I'd be fine with it, yeah. Ashton's right about it all. It would be fun," he says and smiles slightly. But Louis’ not amused and it must show because, more seriously, Harry adds, "I'd like it if you came along and if we could travel to your place. Or, I mean," he then rushes out, "we'd like it. The group. You'd be doing us a favour."

"Well," Louis says, trying to digest this. "I'll think about it."

"Okay." Harry nods, self-assured. No big deal. "Okay, fine. But don't think for too long, we'll need –"

"I thought about it." Louis says and Harry shuts up. Ashton stares at him.

Fuck.

"Fine. Why the hell not?" Why not, then?

Ashton grins widely, happy and relieved. Kendall claps, and Taylor beams. Harry smiles, almost warm but not quite. Lukewarm. Louis smiles back briefly, trying to process this.  
"We're going on vacation!" Kendall laughs happily, and then, "Hey! Zayn? Did you hear that? Stop sleeping!"

Okay.

Vacation it is, then. 

x x x

It's only when he's sitting on Harry's couch that night that the reality of the situation dawns on him.

Harry's gonna visit the place where he should never be allowed to go. The realization makes Louis’ chest tighten up and now he knows why he was so bothered with the prospect of having them, having Harry, there.

The house represents his loss, his loneliness and the wreck Harry made of him.

It was never meant to be anything else, and Harry was never meant to see that place. He sighs, taking the blankets and putting them over his lap, before letting Bobby into it. He pets the little ball of fur and the dog closes his eyes in obvious content. This feels a little bit like home.

"Hey," Harry's voice. Louis looks up to see him in the doorway. He's changed for bed and for a moment he looks a bit torn, and in the light of the little nightlamp Louis can see an insecure flicker in his green eyes, before he seemingly gets over whatever was holding him back and decided to sit down crosslegged at the feet of the couch, facing Louis. Harry isn't looking at him though, but at Bobby and Louis waits for him to start the conversation.

Soon enough, Harry says, "I'm sorry if you felt pressured to say yes today." Louis fake gasps, 

"Me? What? No, not at all." It couldn't sound more sarcastic and Harry frowns. But Louis isn't picking up a fight. He's done fighting with Harry.

"It's just...Taylor seemed very excited about it," Harry now says. 

"She was." Louis nods, "It's the first time she takes time off of work."

"Yeah, you know that of course...being her boss and all that. Well..." Harry scratches his neck, and he looks like he isn't sure if he wants to talk about it, so Louis says, "Look, I thought you might not want me traveling with you guys. That's why I was so against it."

"I don't mind," Harry says. And of course he doesn't. Must be easy if you don't give a damn. "Okay, here is the thing." Harry takes a deep breath. "I feel like it's my fault they aren't going on a honeymoon in summer after the wedding."

Louis lifts a curios eyebrow at the confession, "Why?"

"After we...you know," Harry makes a face and Louis fills the blank: broke up. If that's even the term that can be used. They weren't together. They've never been. They never gave each other a fair chance. "You stopped paying for my college," Harry continues and before Louis can say anything, Harry says quickly, "Which is totally fine, and I didn't expect you to pay for it, I mean, why would you?" Harry laughs a bit awkwardly, "And well, Edward and Taylor payed for the rest, but in the end I dropped out anyway. So yeah, they spend a lot of money on me and I think that's why they aren't having a big wedding, or going on a long vacation."

"You feel guilty," Louis states.

Harry nods, "I never should have taken the offer when Edward said they would pay for it. I never should have taken your money either, but I can't change that now." Harry goes on and before Louis can object, he says, "And Taylor seemed so excited, you know?"

"Yeah," Louis sighs. "Look, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you," Harry smiles at him now, one of these smiles that reach his eyes. Louis smiles back. If he's honest, the aspect of traveling with Harry makes him feel a little nostalgic. He used to dream of showing Harry places, Louis’ favorite part of Regent's Park where you've got the best view over the lake, and that little record store in an alleyway in the Latin Quarter of Paris where the owner doesn't want to sell you anything as he hoards the records like they're his children, and the beautiful and grand Sagrada Família in Barcelona, the church they've been building for over a century, and Louis wants to show Harry the arches and the steeples, the little details you'll easily miss.

And Louis’ been so angry that Harry didn't want his dreams of them coming true.

But maybe they were never that realistic.

For all Louis’ cynicism, he's always gotten carried away with Harry.

This, Louis on Harry's couch, Bobby cuddled into his side and Harry wishing him a good night, a tiny smile on his lips ... this is good.

This is what they've got.

And it's a hell of a lot more than the two of them realistically ever could have hoped to gain.

x x x

When he wakes up the next morning, Harry is already gone. Louis doesn't know if he has to get to work this early every morning or if he's just going out so early to avoid having to talk to Louis and eat breakfast with him.

Doesn't matter. What matters is that Harry isn't here and Louis’ alone in his home.

He eats breakfast, milk and cereal, and plans his day. He thinks about visiting his shop, because the little guilty voice in his mind tells him it's about damn time, and after that he will meet up with Kendall, they didn't really get the chance to talk during the party yesterday. It will be nice to catch up. Louis eats breakfast in silent, doesn't want to turn on the radio, thinks he will only be temped to hear Harry's voice, and he feels weird. He's alone in Harry's home. He hopes that Harry won't actually mind. He looks over his shoulder, feeling like a thief. This is his home and Louis’ invitation to it is dubious as it is. It's silent. Doesn't feel welcoming.

The kitchen is untidy: the doughnut bag is still on the counter, Louis’ cut off hair is still in the corner where Harry swept it. Harry shouldn't have to come back to this. Louis’ got time before he needs to go. Okay. He's got time.

Louis decides to clean a up a bit, clearing the breakfast table and in the process he knocks a mug off. Louis swears and reaches for it, but it crashes onto the floor and chips. Great. In Harry's house, breaking his shit. Great, great job, Louis.

He stops to take a breath, cursing himself for feeling so awkward and clumsy.

Louis picks up the mug and the sharp piece of porcelain that came off. The mug is pure white, cheap-looking, so he throws it in the trashcan without too much thought. Then he begins to clean up the place. He finally gets rid of his hair, and the brown locks land over the discarded mug in the trash. He spends forever looking for dish soap only to conclude that Harry doesn't have any, so he rinses the mugs and other dishes with hot water the best he can. He puts the milk on the counter back in the fridge, and when he closes it, he halts.

There are a lot of photos on the fridge, and underneath two, Louis sees something that can't be. He blinks. It's a photo of them. The one Kendall snapped at Simon's bar. The one where Louis kisses Harry on the cheek.

Why would he have that? Why would he –

Louis laughs when he realizes that suddenly his insides feel hot and his pulse has picked up. God, so what? So what. He has photo of them. Whatever. Getting worked up over this is pathetic.  
Get a grip, Louis.

And so he quickly places the other photo back over it and lets it be. Ignores his shaking hands, his beating heart, his confused thoughts. Finishes cleaning up the kitchen and living room, tidying the little he can when he doesn't actually know the rightful places of Harry's belongings.

Because it doesn't mean anything. A photo. Why is he getting worked up over it? Ridiculous.

Louis grabs a quick shower before leaving. And he doesn't wonder about the photo. Did Kendall gave it to him? Or did he ask for it? Why would he have a photo of them on his fridge? Does it mean something to him?

Or maybe it means nothing.

Probably that.

He doesn't want to think about what it could mean, because it will only make him go insane.

It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't. It doesn't.

When Louis steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, he's barely out of the bathroom when he stops. Harry's standing there, frowning. Louis didn't hear the front door opening.   
"Sorry. Um." Louis says, "I showered. I hope that's alright."

"...Yeah. Sure." Still frowning.

In an alternative universe, this would be a different scenario. Harry coming home from work – and they would have this, their house, their life, communal, shared, theirs –  
But this is what they've got instead. This.

Harry didn't want him back then, and now that Louis’ here, he's reminded of it all over again. Harry said that it was good to see him, but it was as an old friend. Like they've both said. Old friends. Means there's baggage. Mistakes made along the way. Too many to count.

That ship has sailed, that point where maybe they still might have... And now Harry got his house and his friends and his work.  
And Louis’ the odd extension, and isn't he just so acutely aware of it right now?

"I didn't know you would be back so early" Louis says as a way of explanation, tightening the towel around his waist slightly.  
Harry's still looking at him, his eyes out of focus slightly and fixed somewhere on Louis’ stomach. Then he manages to shake his head, brown eyes finding Louis’ own. "Yeah, I took the short shift." After he's gotten his boots off, he looks around briefly. Frowns. "Have you... cleaned up?" His green eyes fix on Louis, confused.

"Just a bit."

He blinks. "You. Cleaning up." "Yeah."

"You."

"I figured you wouldn't mind –"

"No, no, I don't. I just. Didn't know you cleaned things. You. I mean, your apartment was such a mess." Louis’ mind briefly recalls the times Harry visited his apartment. When they kissed in his kitchen, Harry's hot breath against the nape of Louis’ neck, a sloppy kiss… Fuck. But Louis loses the memory just as quickly.

"I clean things. Up north, who else is gonna do it?" Louis points out, and Harry shrugs like he hasn't thought of that. He rubs his left temple briefly, and it's obvious he hasn't slept all night, so Louis says, "I'll get dressed and head over to my shop. You look like you need sleep."

"More like a nap," Harry mutters. "We're meeting at Edward's later."

"All the more reason for me to go, then," Louis says. Knows when to go.

"Alright." Harry seems uncomfortable as Louis grabs the duffel bag that's still on the couch that now also has a neatly folded duvet on it with my pillow on top. Louis gets dressed in the bathroom, hangs his towel up to dry. He's the perfect guest.

Thinks how ridiculous it is that they now cover themselves up when they used to dress and undress in front of the other without a second thought.  
Like their skin has now become sinful or a source of shame.

When Louis comes back out, Harry's sitting on the couch that was temporarily Louis’ bed. He looks up at Louis when he walks in, and Louis sits on the adjacent couch to put his shoes on. Louis can feel Harry staring at him, but he doesn't know what Harry's thinking or feeling. Louis has no damn clue.

He stands up once Louis has thrown his coat on, got his bag, the car keys. Harry asks, "So where are you gonna sleep now? I didn't know you would be leaving."

"A friend."

"Oh. A friend." Something like a frown flickers on his face before it's gone. "Well, then, I will text you when we have a date for the vacation. Probably next week sometime."

"Alright."

Harry gives him a smile when Louis hurries out, and god, his insides flutter, and Louis wants to murder the butterflies. Shoot them dead, kill them all.  
Stupid photo that means nothing.

Stupid smiles that makes Louis’ heart beat so quickly.

Stupid Harry for smiling at him like that, when he knows what it does to him. He knows. Probably.

How can he not? It's obvious. 

x x x  
"Louis Tomlinson, me alegro de verte!"

"Okay, whatever, good to see you too." Louis actually can't hide a smile when Franco pulls him into a hug.

"It's been a while, eh?"

"Yeah, yeah. Are you gonna invite me in or what?" Louis asks and Franco grins, stepping away from him and opening his door wider, indicating for Louis to go in.  
Franco's home is more than a little bit...luxurious. Parlor floor, lutron lightning, formal garden and all that stuff Louis doesn't care for. Franco's lavish lifestyle doesn't impress him, and the promise of living a life in this apartment isn't as appealing to him as the blonde probably thinks it is. Louis can't count how many times he has declined the offer.

"I need a place to stay for a week or so." Louis says, and Franco's grin widens. He looks like a pleased cat and Louis thinks maybe he should have just stayed on Harry's couch.

"Of course you can sleep here. I have a guest-bedroom. Or...of course, you could always stay at my own. I don't mind sharing my bed with you, Louis."

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me at all."

The blonde laughs, "So cold. I missed you terribly, you know that?"

Louis rolls his eyes, following Franco deeper into the house until they reach the balcony. Louis gets the hint and takes his cigarette out, offering him one before taking one for himself.  
He lights up and the man asks, "So, how's life? How are things with your boy? What was his name again?"

"Harry."

"Yeah," Franco nods, "What about him?"

"We're going on a vacation at my house with all of his friends and a few of mine and I swear," Louis lets out a sigh, "I have no idea how that happened and the guy's gonna be the death of me. I swear."  
Franco chuckles slightly, "Before you die...we should have some fun." Louis rolls his eyes, but doesn't object when the blonde leans down to kiss him.

x x x

"And what about Harry?"

Kendall gets straight to the point, but she knows. She's one of the few people who truly know about Harry and him. She knows the depth of it. She's seen him. She's seen what it's done to him.

"It's fine." Louis says.

Kendall's studying him carefully, and Louis looks away. Kendall nearly chokes on her tea just then, quickly putting the cup back down. She stares at him, deadly serious. "Don't tell me you two are –"

"No! No, god no." Louis shakes his head, denies any such indication. "No, we're just friends." Kendall exhales slightly, like that's a crisis averted. Louis takes a sip of his coffee. "But the spark," Louis says then, quietly. Feeling sorry for himself. "God, the spark."

Because Louis could lie to Kendall, say they're friends and leave it there. And they are friends, in some ways, sure. They are friends. But Louis – he can't make it stop, the way his heart skips beats, the way his skin heats up. He can't stop, and Louis can't deny that it's not happening.

Still.

"I have nothing against him, you know that. He's my friend, he's important to me. But he fucks you up. I mean, he really fucks you up." Kendall says at length.

"You know Zayn told me the same thing back in the day?" Louis asks, still remembering the confrontation at Louis’ shop, Zayn having a hissy fit and telling him he was no good and never could be. "Just before he told me to stay away from Harry."

Kendall sighs and shakes her head slowly. Louis waits for her to say it: stay away for your own good. Maybe Louis just needs someone to tell him to stay away, maybe then he'll manage to do just that.  
But Kendall doesn't say it, she only looks mildly sad. "Look, think of it this way... There's gonna be a spark. That's a given. And you know what that can cause? A fucking fire that'll burn you. Again. Don't get dragged into that same mess again."

"I told you he had that picture on his fridge and..." Louis starts, finally vocalizing a thought that's been circling in his head all day now, "what if... what if he still has feelings for me?"

"Well, of course he has feelings for you," Kendall says like that's elementary. "He always will, and you'll always have feelings for him, too."

"But I mean... What if we still?" Louis persists.

The way Louis struggles not to look Harry's way, the way his pulse picks up when he stands too close, and the way he tries to read Harry, wondering if there are any signs, if today he is smiling at Louis more than the day before.

"Look, you two have always been more than just friends, so yeah, it's confusing now, you can still feel the spark. It takes time to shake off that connection, it takes time and then it takes some more time, but you'll get there. And then it just becomes a fact of the past, you two and that chemistry, it's no longer relevant. And you move on." Louis has. He has moved on, he swears, in some ways – and in other ways he'll never move on.

"I wish I didn't, you know," Louis says quietly. "I wish I didn't feel this for him. Then he and I could be friends, and I could... keep him in my life. And I could see him and talk to him and make him laugh... But I want all those things because of how I feel. God, it'd just be simpler if I didn't feel this. It'd be better for him, and it'd be better for me." Kendall hums sympathisingly.

But Louis can't change it. It's stupid, and he should know better but naivety says 'this time, this time', and then Louis ruins everything again and that's that. That's that, and Louis will never see him again.

He cannot take that risk.

He will not take it. He will not.

But Harry smiles at him sometimes.

He could tell Kendall, he could try to describe it, but Kendall wouldn't get it.

How he smiles at him sometimes. 

x x x

"I haven't had sex in a week."

Edward snorts. "Because a week is such a long time."

"Maybe in your adult relationship it isn't," Ashton smirks. "Taylor starting to get headaches now, is she?"

"Hey!" Edward objects, but the guys laugh. They are already on their way to Louis’ house. Louis is driving and Kendall is too, a few cars behind on the high way.

"Oh come on, Edward, when was the last time you had sex?" Ashton asks, sounding genuinely curious, and Louis glances in the rearview mirror, only to see Edward looking uncomfortable, like that's between him and Taylor – at the same time, he doesn't want to be emasculated in front of his friends.

"Engagement party...when you guys left. What do you think?"

Louis smirks. He knew why those two wanted the house to themselves when they rushed them out after 3 o'clock.  
"Okay, fine, Taylor still finds you attractive for some insane reason," Ashton says and then turns to the rest of them. "What about you guys? Will the girls of that little town all be for me then?"  
Louis laughs disbelievingly – they're like schoolboys: how far did she let you go? Did you do it yet? Did you score?

When there is no instant chorus of responses, Ashton says, "Oh, come on, don't be so boring!"

Bartolomeo breaks the silence with, "October." He glances at them like he dares someone to make fun of him for that. He even sounds proud of it. It's nearly March. Wow, that's a while. Huh. He's a handsome, interesting guy, he attracts interest, he's edgy. October? Really?

"Oh yeah, Mr. I Want to Find Someone Special," Luke laughs, and Barto just shrugs like he isn't bothered by Luke teasing him. The guy doesn't let other people's views or opinions affect him much.

"I think that's admirable," Harry cuts in, smiling at Barto warmly and the green haired man returns the smile.

"Maybe it is," Ashton says and then, "Hey Zayn, when did you last made sweet love to a lady...or a man."

Zayn blinks, then yawns, "The night before we left. So...yesterday." 

"Figures," Luke says like he expected as much, and then he says "Louis?"

For some reason, Louis didn't expect Luke to ask him. He has no qualms about something like sex, he really doesn't but – Harry's sitting next to Luke, and Louis can feel his eyes resting on the back of his head, heavy like a weight, and it suddenly dawns on Louis that he doesn't want to answer. His hands on the steering wheel tightens.

"I don't kiss and tell." When he says it, he realizes it only sounds worse: like he's got things to cover up.

"Ooh!" Luke laughs, which is the exact reaction Louis hoped to avoid.

Edward says, "Not everyone over-shares," and Louis’ thankful for the rescue as Luke shrugs like hey, he's not forcing anyone.

Harry shrugs. "Just answer it. It's not a big deal." He looks unconcerned and sounds casual, and is he actually asking him?

"I don't know." he taps his fingers against the steering wheel, tenses up despite himself. "A few weeks ago, something like that." With Franco, a few days ago, actually. But Harry doesn't need to know that. Who's counting days anyways?

"Not too bad," Zayn says, like he's giving them invisible stud points according to their most recent conquests. "Harry?"

Louis doesn't want to hear him answer. And he doesn't know if he imagines a sudden aggression in the air, petty and bitter, or if it's only in his head. Two former lovers talking about the one thing the other doesn't want to hear.

"Two months ago, more or less," Harry says, and something in Louis’ inside twists painfully but he knows he has to live with it. That strangers are touching Harry, listening to the way he comes and the way his skin tastes, the way he sounds when he's getting fucked and it all makes Louis incredibly jealous. That other men have the right to know something like that. "A Christmas party. He was wearing a Santa hat," Harry goes on. Zayn laughs. "You got it on with Father Christmas?"

"Ho, ho, ho," Ashton grins, and Harry flips them both off. "He wasn't dressed as Santa! I said he had a hat!"

"I don't know, man, sounds kind of kinky to me," Ashton grins, and Harry kicks the bag of Ashton's seat with his leg half-heartedly.

"I really didn't need to know what my little brother is up to." Edward grimaces and the others laugh.  
Louis tries to fight the jealousy.

Harry deserves it: Christmas party fucks with hot guys. He deserves it.  
Doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.

He's single now. Of course he's fucking around. Of course he is.

Louis thinks back to what he said to Kendall. That there's a spark. Maybe, only in his head. Because as always he sees the things he wants to see. Projecting his own feelings onto Harry. Again. Louis will be damned if he does the same mistake twice.

And it shouldn't matter, how Harry smiles at him, when he smiles at everyone else too. It just makes things harder for Louis. Because he can't just ignore it, but what is he supposed to do? Louis’ never been so clueless.

But yeah. Good for him. Really. Time to move on then.


	26. TREMBLING HANDS

"Okay, listen up," Louis says, once they've all gathered in front of his house. Bobby jumping in the high grass, happy that he's finally out of Kendall's car, and Harry is chasing after him, laughing. Zayn is getting their baggage out of the trunk of Louis’ car. And the others have gathered in front of him. Louis sighs, before he asks, "Who wants to share a room with who?"

Kendall's hand goes up, "I call Taylor!"

"Hey!" Edward says, looking disgrunteled. "I'm sharing with her!" 

"Say's who?" Kendall says, in a tone that Louis knows means business.

"Says her soon-to-be-husband," Edward smiles, like the thought of that is enough to give him reason to.

"Okay, okay," Kendall says, lifting her hands in surrender, "Taylor? Who do you want to share with? Your super pretty, awesome, best friend? Or the lousy guy with a dragon complex, and weird hair?"  
Edward snorts, and the others laugh. Louis chuckles. Kendall's feisty. Taylor grins, "Well, I-"

"Who has a dragon complex?" Harry's voice. He's slightly out of breath, and carrying Bobby in his arms now, who is just out of breath, tongue hanging out.

"Your brother, H." Kendall says.

"Oh yeah. He loves them, Dragons are cool though, so it's-"

"Seriously, now." Louis says, sighing. These guys are giving him a serious headache. "Decide where you want to sleep, or we are gonna stand here till next Christmas."

"I don't care where I sleep." Zayn pipes up now, throwing a glare towards Niall, pointing his thump towards him, "As long as it isn't next to this guy."

"Hey, as if I-" Niall says now, but Louis interrupts quickly before they actually start a fight. "Awesome." He says, "Then it's the couch for you."

"Fine with me." Zayn says, borrowing his hands in his jeans pockets. He really looks like he doesn't give a damn, as long as he's able to sleep somewhere. Louis can appreciate the flexibility even when it comes from Zayn.

"So...who else is willing to sacrifice a bed for sleeping on the floor or on the couch?" Bartolomeo lifts his hand. So do Edward, Ashton, Niall, Luke and Harry. And Bobby, because Harry is lifting his paw.

"We have two guest rooms with a double bed that people can share." Louis says, "The beds are from the previous owner and not mine. He left them there, and Ashton has stayed in one of them before, so I suggest, that-"

"That me and Taylor share one of them. Great Idea, Louis." Kendall beams, and that's not what Louis wanted to say, but he's seriously getting a little bit frustrated now. What an exhausting bunch of people.

Edward looks like he wants to say something so Kendall says, "Think about it, Edward. We are the only girls, since Robin couldn't come. So I think it makes sense that me and Taylor get our own room."

"Okay." Louis says, before Edward gets a chance to cut in again. "So the girls share a room. Great. Now, the other room. Who wants to?"

A round of "I don't really care," reaches him and Louis just sighs, "Harry, you get the other room. Choose whoever you want to share with." Bartolomeo and Luke look both expectantly at Harry who smiles a bit sheepishly.

"Can I choose Bobby?"

"Yeah, whatever." Louis says, "Let's go in now. This took way too long." And finally, they all agree on something.

x x x

After a while being back isn't really as bad as Louis thought it would be. Sure the place brings back bad memories, him alone and trying to forget everything. Mourning, himself and what he lost. What chance he let pass.

But it's different now. Somehow. Maybe it's the friendly banter of the others, who made himself at home at his house, maybe it's Harry being around him again. Maybe it's just the weather. Who knows.  
The first day though, he panicked. When they finally got inside, the scarf, his scarf, Harry's scarf, was still lying on the floor, in a bundle of anger, tears and wool. And he noticed Harry stopping mid-sentence. He stopped and stared and Louis reacted quickly, picking it up, balling it inside his fists. Mumbling something about how his place is always messy, how Ashton just leaves shit around. Harry didn't say anything and after a while Louis’ heart rate became somewhat normal again.

So they settled then, that's what Louis’ trying to say. Harry shares the guest- bedroom with his dog, which Louis thinks he probably only did because he didn't want to decide between Luke and Barto. Kendall and Taylor have already taken over to re-decorating their bedroom. Louis doesn't really mind and just let's them do. He gets along with them all, too. Even his conversations with Zayn are normal. Not friendly, but at least, the black-haired man doesn't glare at him anymore. Probably because the thing between him and Harry is finally over. For real, this time. Maybe because Zayn knows there's no chance anymore. Maybe that's why.

The thought of it makes Louis sick.

He gets along well with Niall though. Louis notices how they have much in common. They like the same books, the same wine, the same packet of cigarettes. And really, isn't sharing the same pleasures what brings men together after all?

"Damn. It really gets cold here, at night." Niall curses, shivering, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He's smoking frantically, and Louis copies him because they don't want the cold getting into their bones when there's no one in their beds to keep them warm. Quick smoke, quick smoke.

The icy breeze ruffles their hairs, but living here for so long has toughened him up some. He hasn't spend hours standing on the beach, having a staring competition with the ocean for nothing.  
Niall talks about the town and how he's excited to go see how the night life here is, how he wants to meet a girl, finally, and who knows? Maybe he will meet her at the end of the world? It's possible.  
"How are the bars around here?" Niall asks.

"Well, not that fancy, but they got some good beer and –" And then Louis stops as he hears a voice in the wind, and Louis thinks he's lost it until he looks back towards the lake, that was deserted a second ago – now two figures have appeared.

Niall turns to look the same way, moving to Louis’ side. "Ah," he says, nodding and smoking some more, still quickly and frantically. He recognizes them instantly, but it takes Louis a second longer to be sure: Harry and Bartolomeo.

Harry's laugh carries their way. Barto says something that the wind takes with it, and Harry gives him a playful shove. Louis thought they would be asleep already. They're not asleep – instead they've taken on to explore the lake at night by themselves. Thinking no one else will know, just him and him and the water.

And there is absolutely no reason for Niall and Louis not to go over, to call after them, to join their company or ask them to come inside for a drink, but somehow...–Somehow it just feels like they're doing their own thing right now. It's not meant for others.

"That, right there?" Niall says, nodding at Harry's and Bartolomeo's turned away backs. "That has got to be the longest mating ritual in the history of mating rituals, man." And he laughs and takes in a deep drag. "Been watching that foreplay for months." Louis’ not surprised and yet he is.

He looks away from the two of them because it's not for him to see. Well, then. Well.

"I can't feel my fingers," Louis says and throws his cigarette away. After a moment he asks, "How about we hit that bar then?"

Niall smiles. 

x x x

They managed to keep going until seven in the morning, but now the bleak morning sunlight feels too bright, and Louis’ voice is scratchy from the alcohol.  
Surely they deserve to let themselves go once in a while. While they're young, while they're breathing.

The alcohol did nothing to kill the pangs of longing and jealousy in his guts though, because Louis knows he shouldn't feel that way about Harry. He needs to teach himself how not to.  
But god, it's hard. Harry's never been as beautiful. It's the eyes. When Louis first met him, his eyes were always so full of defiance and misled trust, mesmerizing Louis. Then, two years later, full of confusion, and that broke him. Now, it's like there is clarity to Harry that he's never had before, a sense of purpose, and it shows in his smile, his confidence, the way he seems to be more at ease with himself.

Louis can't take credit for it, but it's hypnotizing to watch.

"You made it, then," Harry says, when Louis gets to the breakfast table that morning. Harry is the only one still eating, the others all out at the lake, or exploring somewhere around the house. Louis looks at the way Niall and the girls prepared breakfast. It smells like egg and bacon, and it all looks lovely and delicious. Louis doesn't really feel like eating though. "Looked like you were going for it last night."

"Nothing I can't handle," Louis assures him.

Harry nods, and then reaches over to get the bowl of frying egg. Louis didn't want to notice, but his eyes flick towards the exposed skin when Harry's shirt rises up at his hip. It flashes before his mind then, the way he used to grip his hips, hard and bruising, his thump pressing into the hipbone, when he hold him still so he can fuck him right where he wanted him. When he pushed his fingerprint into his skin, his mark, his-

"You okay?" Harry now asks, and Louis quickly forces the memory out of his head, feels guilty for even thinking it and for letting himself imagine it. He knows that he would happily punch any guy who'd feel free to think of him like that. It's getting worse now, the memories. They keep popping up with more and more frequency, like the lid that Louis firmly closed on that box has become loose and now bits of the past are sneaking back into his subconscious.

"Yeah, just a bit hungover. I think, uh. I actually need to." Louis stands up, and Harry's frowning. "Just need some fresh air." Harry gives him a confused smile as he leaves the room.

He goes down the hall to the bathroom where he washes his face, water splashing onto his dress shirt, dripping off his face. He takes deep breaths. He kills every damned butterfly that he feels when he sees him. He's started to focus on the small things: The way he walks, the way his body moves, the way his lips curl when he smiles, revealing white teeth, and just how good he looks like that. Just how good.

Harry doesn't look or feel or act like the boy that Louis was mourning back then. He is that boy, and Louis is that fuck up, and the memory of that pain lingers and is still visible as scars on his skin and in the air between them, but at the same time it couldn't have been them. Not him like he is now, and not Louis like he is now. Louis admits that he's fucked weren't it so unpleasant to say. So disappointing and wrong.

When he opens the door and steps out, he almost bumps into Harry coming down the hall. They both freeze.

"Oh hey," he says, and Louis says, "Uhm." Did he come after him? Harry stares at him expectantly. Louis doesn't know why. He stares back in total confusion, his heart racing. Harry laughs slightly. Gorgeous. "Would you... mind stepping out of the way so that I can go take a leak?"

Right. Of course. "Yeah, sorry, of course." Louis steps out of his way. Motions inside like there you go, then.

Harry peers at him, perhaps even with a hint of worry in his brown eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am. Really."

Harry shouldn't be worried, but he still looks uncertain. His eyes flicker to the door, and then back to him. He looks like he wants to say something. But then he decides against it, closing the door after him and Louis finds himself alone in the hallway. He takes a deep breath, needs some air. His head is pounding and all of this is confusing to him. Harry's presence is making him go insane. Trying to read something into every action that Harry does, every words he says, it's draining, and Louis is just tired.

Feeling slightly trapped in his own house and his own emotions he decides to go out of the backdoor for a smoke. Outside, it's windy, and grey clouds have gathered above. It looks like it's going to rain, soon. Nevertheless, Louis decides to go to the old wooden jetty that leads far into the lake. He thought the others would be here as well, but there's no one around. Maybe they went into town, or into the woods, hiking. He vaguely remembers Niall telling him that he will try to find some edible mushrooms in the forest.

He lets himself sit down, legs hanging over the wooden plank, as he inhales languidly. The nicotine does wonders for him lately, calms him the fuck down. He stares into the water, flicking some ash into it, as his shoes nearly break the surface.

It's quiet out here. He hears the birds and the wind, and the sounds of nature and then...clack, clack, clack. Shoes on wood. Louis doesn't dare to turn around. "Don't fall in," a voice from behind him says, and Louis closes his eyes for a moment and thinks, leave me alone, leave me alone, I can't handle you right now. Harry doesn't leave though, instead he sits down next to him, bumping his shoulder and adds, "I wouldn't know how to save you. I can't swim."

Louis takes a deep drag from his cigarette, before he says, "Me neither."

Harry smiles, "See? We would sink to the bottom of the lake and it would be tragic."

Louis huffs out a little laugh, but doesn't say anything else. Why did he follow him? To tell him that he would let him drown? Is that it?

Apparently not, because Harry swallows and then says, more quietly, and more seriously, "I thought I lost the scarf."

Louis takes a sharp breath, nearly choking on the smoke in his lungs, and busying himself with flicking his cigarette into the water. He didn't think Harry would bring it up. They both have grown comfortable with not talking about it. Louis contemplates if this is his cue for bringing up the photo of them, that he found on Harry's fridge, but throws the thought away quickly. Louis isn't ready for these kind of confrontations.

"I took it with me," Louis explains. Because what else could he say?

"I thought I lost it. I...when I moved out, it was a big mess, and it was just gone."

"It's just a scarf." Louis says. No big deal, no big deal. Just something he gave him once to keep him warm, and something Harry has kept, something Louis took back then. Louis is too tired to think about what it means.

"Yeah." Harry agrees, though he doesn't sound like he likes to, "Just a scarf."

Louis doesn't say anything again, and silence settles over them. It's not uncomfortable, slightly awkward maybe, but they have had it worse before. Angry glares and bitter words, they have done it all before. Louis thinks, they can handle some awkward silence.

He stares into the water, sees the first drops of rain falling into it. One, then a second, then a third.

"It's going to rain," Harry says, "We should head back inside." 

"It's not like the rain is going to hurt."

"Yeah, but who wants to get wet?" Harry asks.

"Sometimes it's good to experiment things," Louis says, "How much rain are we gonna experiment before we die? See...those were wise words."

Harry frowns. "Who said that?"

Louis blinks. "You did. You said that to me once."

"I did?" He sounds surprised. He did. "Wow, you remember everything I've ever said to you?"

"Probably."

The severity of Louis’ tone doesn't match Harry's humorous one. Harry's smile fades as his expression turns more serious. It's a bit too honest, a bit too soon, and Louis says, trying to get the conversation elsewhere, and he starts to ramble, "You see why I said this place isn't special? Just a lot of rain and bad weather, and the town isn't that big, is it? The only nice thing is the nature and the mountains, and maybe this lake, but–"

"But I mean, I get it I guess," Harry interrupts his waterfall of words, lets out a deep breath, "why you choose this place. After all that happened. I would have liked to get away from it too. So I get it, I mean, I understand you."

"It didn't do me any good." Louis says, honestly. Leaving just made him even lonelier. Just made him realize that he had nothing left to love.

"Sometimes the thought of leaving is a better escape than actually leaving." Harry smiles. "What do you know? Maybe I remember most of the stuff you've said to me, too." And the smile he gives Louis is warm and friendly and – and then some, and normally Louis wouldn't think much of it except that it's them. And if anything that happens between them can be called warm, that's a hell of a huge thing. If after all that's happened, they can warm up to each other. And the way Harry says it, maybe – maybe that was flirtatious.

It is flirtatious.

And the hope that instantly swirls in Louis is hungry and desperate, the way he always was for him.

Harry stands up then and heads back into the house. Louis stays for a moment, letting the light rain fall down on him before he heads back himself, feeling stupefied and nervous. He's glad they were alone, that Kendall didn't see that because Louis knows what she would say, that Louis will get burned again, that Luke didn't see that because Louis knows what he'd say, too, that he thought it was all over with, or that Ashton didn't see that because he'd just smile at Louis knowingly: I told you so, I told you so.

And he and Harry haven't talked about the past, they haven't talked about them now, and they haven't talked about what's happening, but it's happening nonetheless. There's putting up with someone, and then there's... saying things like that, sending Louis spiralling. Louis feels triumphant, almost, light and happy and obnoxiously thrilled but then –

They fuck it up. They always do.

But what if... what if they can just slip back into it? If it feels good, if it feels natural, why fight it? Just slip back into the old habits, back into them.

There's a sliver of hope, and Louis’ holding on to it. He's not ready to let go of it yet.

He's still not ready, and the hope and guilt of it entwine. 

x x x

That same night they go out to party again, but Louis doesn't participate. He overdid it last night, and is glad for the alone time. Hanging around with them all the time is draining him.  
He leaves his own room, and only after he has already wandered into the living room, does he realize that he isn't alone. He thought that they all left for a night out but apparently not all of them felt the need to party.

It's Harry, and Louis’ surprised he's not with the others, having a good time – he always is. Harry's the first out of bed and the last to retire to his bedroom and, well – It's shocking, almost. Walking in on him reading a book, appearing calm and focused on the pages.

It's best to leave him to it, to not disturb him because it's always a bit awkward when they are by themselves, even after, or especially after this morning. (Harry was flirting with him. Louis is sure of it, or maybe not, and he's just reading too much into it again, and how stupid of him that is, but what if, what if, what if-) It's safe to hang out in groups, and one-on-one time with anyone is practically impossible to get, anyway. So it's best to leave him alone, and Louis thinks this even as he walks over.

"Hey," he says, and Harry flinches, not having heard him coming. He looks up from his book, his hair a slight mess, and – Louis stares. Feels his stomach drop.

"What?" he asks, clearly seeing Louis’ expression change. "You're wearing glasses."  
He is: they're big and black-rimmed, and Louis’ never seen him wear glasses, didn't know he would or should wear glasses, but now he is. Louis’ stupefied by the sight, staring.

"Reading glasses," he explains and shrugs. Louis’ still staring, taking in his face. He shifts uncomfortably. "So what? They make reading easier." Once Louis knows he has the visual memorized, he breaks into what is probably a shit-eating grin. Harry takes the glasses off, quickly rubbing his eyes, and his cheeks get the palest tinge of pink on them. "Ha ha, very funny. You're such an ass, god."

"I didn't say anything!" 

"You were thinking it."

"You don't know what I was thinking."

"Well, I could see it on your face," he says, and he sounds genuinely offended and ticked off, and that's when Louis realizes that this isn't friendly banter like he hoped it was.  
Abort, reverse, retreat. Shit.

"I wasn't – Look, I was just thinking that you look fucking cute, okay? That's all I was thinking," Louis mutters, wondering how this conversation has managed to go so wrong already. "They look good on you. That's all." He looks smart wearing them – he's smart, anyway, but he looks smart, and they suit him, and god, why didn't Louis just –

"Thanks," Harry says quietly, maybe realizing he came on too strong. "I took forever deciding on a pair so they better suit me," he then says with a chuckle, and it doesn't quite work in erasing the awkwardness. He then sighs, "Dude, I'm sorry, I'm just tired and –"

"I get it. It's fine. Never mind."

And Louis hates this, how they can't joke back and forth without it turning into a round of apologies. They are fine when there are others around, they're fine, but leave them be and it – He fucks it up, says something stupid, and then it's awkward all over again. Completely unlike Bartolomeo and Harry, who can make each other laugh, who can quote their favourite songs to each other, taking alternate turns between lines, and Louis can do that all too while they are there, with others, and then Harry and him are alone, and Louis tries too hard, maybe he just tries too hard, and he just wants it to be easy. Just wants it to be good and comfortable and okay.

"Christ, why is everything so awkward with us?" Louis asks although he probably shouldn't. It's just too draining to live with this every damn day. "This is awkward, right? Isn't it?" he looks at Harry for validation, needing to know if he thinks this is normal.

He breaks into a smile and laughs softly. "Yeah, it's awkward. It's really awkward." And he laughs disbelievingly, and Louis shakes his head and chuckles. And saying that it's awkward dissolves the awkwardness of it. "I'm sorry," he says again, "I snapped at you for no good reason."

"Stop saying you're sorry."

"No, but seriously. We are all glad that we are here." He looks away, chewing on his bottom lip. "I'm grateful."  
That's something Louis never thought he'd admit.

"Don't mention it."

The silence that lands on them is more comfortable than any silence shared thus far, but the honesty of it is new, mildly embarrassing. He likes that about Harry. That Harry knows how to be grateful. Not many men know how to say thank you.

Not many men are good men. He is though.

Regardless of whatever messes he and Louis have dragged each other into, he is a good human being who wishes good on people, and something swells up in Louis at that moment. Something like pride and something like – like love, and Louis knows it's love even if he knows that he can't, not anymore, but the feeling is there. Deep within, radiating.  
Like at that second he falls in love all over again.

Harry puts his glasses back on, opening the book again. He looks at Louis like he dares him to comment on the glasses, but Louis’ staring was never malicious, far from it. There's something intimate about it, if anything: it's hard to explain but he wears those glasses only rarely, when he has time to read, when he gets time away from it all. Like when he goes to bed at night, and he sits there reading with those glasses on. It's a version of him only some of them get to see. Homely and exclusive. And when he's done reading, he puts the book away, puts the glasses away, yawns, ruffles his hair, turns the light off and snuggles under the covers, turns to his side and wraps an arm around Louis with a soft, "Goodnight," and a kiss placed somewhere on his bare shoulder, and Louis hums in return, half- asleep already but finally relaxing with him pressed close.

Louis swallows hard and looks away, shamed and overwhelmed by the sudden yearning that such a simple thought stirs up in him. And if he listened hard enough, if he listened, Louis swears he could hear the sound of his heart beating faster.

"Anyway," Harry then says, "we're not all gorgeous like you: we can't wear whatever we like. Hell, you even managed to pull off this ridiculous hat you used to wear."

"That was a fashion statement" Louis says, a buzzing sound in his ears and hot syrup in his stomach, and it's hard to organize his thoughts. It was a comment made in passing, but Louis focus on it fully, remember him having said it before: 'God, you're fucking gorgeous', as he moved down Louis’ body on his bed, kissing every inch on the way, staring up at him, about to go down on Louis. And suddenly Louis says, "I'm glad to know you still think I'm gorgeous. Good for the ego."

And it's so cocky and so out there, and it will backlash so quickly, but Harry just smiles and says, "Well, don't let it go to your head."

Louis huffs and Harry smiles down at his book, the corners of his mouth turned upwards, and Louis knows the way his eyes are twinkling right now although Louis can't see it.

And the quietest drone of a tiny drop of hope has turned into a marching band in his head.

x x x

They go out to town the next day, wandering around, shopping. Or well, Kendall's shopping. Louis’ carrying her bags, slightly irritated.

"Don't you have someone else who can carry your shit around?" he asks.

"Mh, no." Kendall says, looking at a shirt, before holding it in front of her, watching herself in the mirror. "Niall and Zayn are grocery shopping. And Taylor has Edward."

"I didn't sign up for this." Louis mumbles, and next to him Harry laughs. He's got a milkshake in his hand, slurping loudly on the straw before he says, "You gotta deal."

"Yeah, yeah. It's like having a girlfriend."

Harry's eyes widen, "Terrible," he says, but his voice is light. They are joking around.

Louis nods, serious. "I know."

Harry smiles at him and Louis smiles back at him. The smiles last longer. The eye contact lasts longer, but then Harry looks away a bit too quickly. Like maybe he's catching himself at it.  
It's so arrogant of Louis to assume, to hope.

Were he a better man, but he's not. And Harry. God, he's still that one thing Louis shouldn't want but does.

"Hey, Harry," Barto pipes up now, "You wanna grab Luke and go to the beach?"

Harry looks interested and Louis prays in his mind, don't let me here alone, don't leave me with Kendall alone, please don't go.

"What about the others?" Harry asks, motioning to Kendall and Taylor going through the colorful rack of shirts. Edward is already carrying a few of them. He looks bored as well.

"Let's ditch them." Bartolomeo grins, and god, Louis wants to kill him. He doesn't say anything though. It's not like he can keep them here. Harry smiles now too, and nods. Yeah, just leave him here to rod.

"Awesome. I think I saw Luke outside waiting with Bobby." Bartolomeo says, motioning towards the door.

"I will get him." Harry says, and the green haired punk watches him leave.

"I wanted to ask you about something," he now says to him, when Harry's out of the door.

Louis taps his fingers against the wall out of boredom. "Yeah?" "Yeah. Tonight? After dinner?"

"Sure. What about?"

Bartolomeo just shrugs, and fine, Mystery Man.

Louis can't think of anything he couldn't ask him on the spot. It's not like they don't get along – they do, they've discussed politics, Louis has let him rant about gay rights, and they've had beers and they've played cards and talked about tattoos, but he keeps his distance. Because when Louis feels that he's beginning to truly warm up to him, Bartolomeo looks at Harry and smiles too wide, or the two share an inside joke that no one else gets, and Louis withdraws. Knowing that there is something between them, even if they don't know what it is. Friendship. A bond.

The rest of them can't mimic that. 

x x x

Louis sits at the kitchen table, drinking beer, feeling too tired to move. They spend the whole day wandering around town. He spend nearly two hours carrying Kendall's shopping bags. It was like having a girlfriend again, and it was terrible. He's glad he's home now. They have kitchen duty and Bartolomeo is putting the dirty dishes away, and then he says, "So this will probably sound kind of silly."

Louis eyes him keenly. "You're not in love with me, are you?" He frowns. 

"Uh, no?"

"People tend to fall in love with me."

"What a hardship that must be for you," Bartolomeo says sarcastically, like he's calling him on his bullshit. He then sighs, puts the last plate away, before he sits on the chair across from him. "No, I've come to you as a friend. I'm just hoping you'd be willing to help me out."

Louis says nothing, just waits for him to get on with it. His hands are on his knees, squeezing. He might be nervous. It's the first time Louis’ ever seen him nervous – he never is. He's a confident, intelligent guy, quick with his words and thoughts. He doesn't strike Louis as the kind of guy who'd need help from anyone.

"You've known Harry for a long time, right?" he now asks, and Louis nods slowly. Louis has, that's true. "I mean, I've barely known him for a year, and of course we've become close during that time, but I know that… that I only know the bits of him that he wants me to see."

"Right."

Louis still has no idea where the guy is going with this, but his observation is an accurate one.

"Well, I just." He looks serious. "I just know you were there when he was with Nick, I know you saw whatever went down between them. And you were there even before Nick, and – and it's pretty obvious how you guys. Well, I can tell that you used to be close. You two seem to... have this thing... This interconnectedness."

Somehow Louis’ chest swells up from his words – the fact that he can pick up on that even if he knows nothing about their actual history. That it somehow shows, what Harry and he had, even if they're just friends. And then the nagging at the back of Louis’ brain follows, that he lets his feelings show. But if it's mutual, if it really is...

"I suppose he and I do share a bond," Louis says, trying to fight back a smile that would give away too much. Tries not to get ahead of himself when the fear of losing Harry mixes with the warm sensation of hope.

"Yeah, exactly. So I was just – wondering if you had, like, any tips for me."

Louis stares at Barto in incomprehension. He stares at him expectantly. "Tips for what?" Louis asks.

"For making Harry fall for me," he says and then smiles embarrassedly, shaking his head. "Man, that sounded creepy." He pushes some of his green hair from over his eyes, but he's still smiling. He's thinking about this, what he's saying, and he's smiling.

The pain is instantaneous, but it's not like a punch in the guts. Worse than that: it's fear, and it hits all of Louis at once.

When Louis says nothing, can't, Bartolomeo presses on. "It's just that, you know, Harry and I, we've known each other for a while now. And we've become close, you know? I think you really need to know someone before you... commence, um... Before you take it further. And I just – I like him." He laughs in slight desperation, and Louis knows that feeling, that exact mix of longing and hope. "God, I really like him. And I feel like I'm dropping these hints, but he's not getting them. So I think I need to be bolder, but I don't want to scare him off either."

"So you want… me. To tell you how to get Harry?" Louis clarifies.

Every cell of him feels threatened, like the very core of him is under attack.

Bartolomeo nods. And at that second Louis hates him. Because he's seen the two of them together wandering off by themselves, talking without words. Louis’ seen how well they click. And Niall called it a mating ritual, prolonged courtship, and it's been haunting him.

But what does Niall know, really? Maybe Niall had it wrong, maybe they're just friends. But they're not just friends. And suddenly it's damn hard to breathe. "I, uh..." A sudden headache emerges, and blood soars in his ears. He can't look at Bartolomeo. He can't. "Are you in love with him?"

"That's pretty personal," Barto says instantly, and that's a yes. He's in love with his boy.

Louis stares at Bartolomeos shoes, old, black, dirty chucks, and Louis decides that a man with shoes like that can't be taken seriously. Louis can't. Fuck.

"I, uh... Um."

Louis pieces his thoughts together because everything seems to fall apart.

All he can think of is Bartolomeo. How he's smart. He's funny. He's talented. He's openly gay, he would never – would never hurt Harry by being confused, he would never make them pretend. He's politically active and aware, he's well read...–all of this is significant right now. He's got that trendy edgy punk look and he got this bright smile and green eyes and well-toned body, and he makes Harry laugh, he makes Harry think, and Louis’ seen Barto smiling at Harry with- with a bit of adoration. No, not just a bit. He adores him.

And he's in love with Harry, or at least is in the process of falling in love, and here he is, sitting across from Louis in all his perfection, and he's come to him. The opposite, the black sheep, and together they form Janus: one of them the ugly past, the other the bright future.

"I- I don't know. Go on a date, isn't that what people usually do?" Louis asks, surprised he can even form sentences.

"Yeah? Do you think I should?" he asks. He's taking this seriously. "I don't want to upset the status quo because it's good, you know? But I feel like I gotta make my move, like the time's come." He ponders over this and then nods slightly. "Yeah, maybe I just should ask him out. I mean, he's not oblivious, not after what happened after the last concert. A date, yeah. What do you think he'd like to do?"

What happened after the concert?

What the fuck happened after the concert? Louis feels nauseous thinking about it.  
They haven't fucked, that's obvious, so it could be anything that's not full-on fucking. That's still a long, long goddamned list. But Bartolomeo has made their relationship sound virginal so maybe it was something innocent, maybe it was just a kiss.

A kiss is never just a kiss. Not with Harry, it isn't. That's too much.

Louis can't. He just –

"Look, I think I'm the wrong person to ask," Louis says, his voice choked up. And then he simply walks out without another word.

His hands are trembling. How ridiculous that they are.

But they continue to do so nonetheless.


	27. TELLTALE SIGNS

'What happened after the concert' has developed into a mystery novel by the end of the day. It's a book series, in fact, with each novel representing a different take on the topic. In Louis’ favorite one, Barto merely tells Harry that he has beautiful eyes or lips or what have you, and Harry smiles like 'thanks, buddy'.

In Louis’ least favourite one, they sleep together, somehow, miraculously, although Louis knows that hey haven't done that. Louis even asks Ashton, who is his eyes and ears for everything, if he heard something about that topic, and he says, no, nothing. So if he's logical and sensible about this, if he chooses to be those things, then whatever happened after the last concert could not have been major. Probably they just shared a moment, and Barto thought it was undeniably romantic.

And if Louis applies this logic even further, he knows it's not his business.

He's not allowed to feel like the carpet's been pulled from underneath his feet. He had Harry – twice. And Harry had him – twice. And they fucked it up both times, and maybe Louis fucked it up more than Harry did. Maybe Louis just... always took it a step too far.

So he knows he's no good. His reflection stares at him judgingly as he stands in the pub's men's room, and he says to it: stop looking at me like that. Don't you think that I know I'm no good? I know. I'm scum. I'm cruel. I'm vile. Harry might not be any better but...Harry deserves better. Barto is better. And if Bartolomeo and him stood in a row and Harry had to choose, well. He wouldn't choose Louis.

So stop standing there, judging him because he knows, he fucking knows, and he doesn't need you making him feel guilty about things that haunt him enough as it is. And he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. He knows. But he wants him. He still wants him.

There is no justification for that.

Does love need to be justified? There was a time when it didn't need to, but they lost that privilege.

So Louis knows, he knows, he knows. He's not much of a candidate in comparison, but if... if Harry chooses him. If there are signs, then maybe the past doesn't have to matter. Maybe the who-hurt-who's become irrelevant. If they still could work things out.

And with this in mind, Louis heads back out, re-entering the crowded pub in the small town. The place is full of musicians and poets and painters and those in between. It's the centre of an old scene, and there's a stage at the back where a guy with poorly dyed black hair is screaming and spitting and yelling as two guys play guitar and a drummer beats drums furiously. They call it punk. Louis thinks it sounds like noise.

He rejoins his table where Harry and Zayn are. It just happened, them sitting down together. Bartolomeo, Edward and the others ended up five tables away, and it was coincidence. Barto looked torn about it.

Louis now keeps trying to not look at Harry, but then he looks at him anyway, desperate for a sign of any kind. Something to reaffirm what Louis thinks is happening, just something to justify his claims for him. Because if Harry gives him a reason, then Louis will go for it. For him, for them. Louis will be that stupid guy who'll fight until his last breath.

And as they talk and laugh and kid around, Louis keeps thinking that it's good, but is it more than that?

He tries to relax some. These kinds of gatherings are alright and so the hours roll by surprisingly fast, chatting, arguing, asking for another drink and checking out the bands that just keep on coming. Louis talks to a lot of people, sits down at a lot of tables, shakes a lot of hands, and he talks about Harry's radio show some, because if these people are in bands, who knows what important contacts could be made here? When Harry's across the pub, someone says, "We'd like to meet him," so sure, Louis calls him over, make the introductions, help him build up his network of contacts, and then Harry calls him over, says, "Louis, hey, come here," wanting him to join a conversation.

And Louis thinks they make a good team. They would make a good couple.

Harry's holding a half-finished drink and is smiling. The more he drinks, the more he smiles at Louis. It's not cheating if alcohol is needed for Harry to lower his guard, for him to show his cards. To give Louis hope. He now smirks at him, testing out the waters. "You look really good tonight, Harry."

He's flirting. Whatever, he's allowed. Harry started it, after all.

Harry laughs. "So do you. Which, you know, is thanks to me. You ever gonna repay that haircut to me?"

"I thought it was a "welcome back"-present?"

"Mhh, maybe it was. But I don't think I ever got a present in return." 

"Oh, it wasn't an act of selflessness, then?"

"My god, no."

"I will buy you a drink then, alright?"

Harry laughs and ducks his head, and Louis takes that as a yes. It hums in him, pushing the boundaries, breaking down the walls between them. Slowly pulling Harry back to him.  
After a while he ends up at the back of the pub with Edward a short time after the last band's come and gone at two in the morning. They argue about the difference between heavy rock and classic rock. Bartolomeo and Harry are standing at the bar by themselves, and Barto's hand brushes Harry's shoulder, and Harry places a hand on Barto's arm as they converse, and Louis’ expected to just stand here and accept that.

"You okay? You look – nauseous," Edward says, and that's exactly how he feels.

But five minutes later Harry comes over to talk to them, and he feels like he can breathe again. He takes a look around at all the people standing in small clusters, having their own conversations, greeting their friends.

"I can't believe how small this town is," Harry laughs, buzzed on booze but not overly so. "It's good being out of the city for once." He motions around, smiling. "It's just really good to see another scene." Louis thinks it's good to see him happy.

"I still prefer the big city," Edward says. "It's more real and –"

"Louis!" a voice calls out, and Louis reluctantly tears his eyes off of Harry.

A guy who barely reaches his shoulder has come over and is beaming at him, curly brown hair, perfect skin, a handsome face and soft green eyes. In his early twenties, Louis would say, and he looks at Louis slightly adoringly...and...who's that?

"I haven't changed that much, surely?" he asks with an obvious English accent, laughing. Louis looks at him again. Trying to place his face. He knows him, he knows. Goddamn. "Hi...uhm...?"

"Chris?"

"Oh, yeah. Chris. Right."

He nods, and hell. He definitely has changed. Louis does remember him now or well...mostly he remembers his tight throat.  
Chris smiles widely. "God, it's been a while. You never called."

Louis just mumbles something, but Chris doesn't listen just steps in for a hug, and Louis – Well he hugs him back, thinking that he's grown up well. He looked like a boy last time, a pretty boy, and now he's a handsome man. And Louis hugs him back because it's the least of what he's done with the kid, and somehow that doesn't hit him until at that second.

And then he realizes that Chris has showed up, and Harry's right here. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.  
Fake it. That's the only thing that runs through his head: just fucking fake it.

He pulls back quickly and says, "Guys, this is Chris, Chris, this is Edward and Harry, we are here on vacation."

Chris shakes hands with them. "Pleased to meet you. I'm on vacation as well. My old man takes me out to go fishing here each year."

He rolls his eyes and they laugh and then he eyes Louis’ empty glass. "You want me to get you a drink? It'd be nice to catch up." He's smiling at Louis politely but his gaze is dark and he's hardly looking away from him. Chris had none of that confidence last time – Louis thinks, because he hasn't crossed his mind in years, and now Louis’ doing his best to remember. But it was such a drunken, fucked up time. Who knows what or who he did?

"How do you two know each other?" Harry now asks, and Louis rushes out, "Well–"

"We met in a club once," Chris cuts in. "Had a lot of fun." Chris's hand lands on Louis’ hip. "You still drink whisky, right? I'll get us something."

Louis has no idea what he drinks. He has forgotten his existence, mostly, but it's clear that Louis made a far bigger impression on Chris than he ever did on him.  
With one last too intense and too suggestive smile, Chris heads for the bar. Him eye-fucking Louis knowingly could easily be seen from Mars. Louis looks away from him, decides to act like nothing happened despite the touching, despite Chris saying that they "had a lot of fun", which is the most suggestive thing he could possibly say because it implies – god, what doesn't it imply?

"So, anyway...what were you saying, Edward?" Louis asks, finally daring to look at his companions. Harry's studying the foam sticking to the side of his glass. He was laughing just a minute ago. Now he's not.

He noticed.

Edward is staring at Louis, frowning. "Did, uh... Did I just imagine that?" He points after Chris. "Because I swear I haven't been hanging out with homos for nothing."  
"What do you mean?" Louis asks, frowning. Ready to deny it. "Chris? Just some guy, man. I think he might be a fag but," Louis says, shrugging it off, and he sounds like an asshole even to his own ears, ready to dismissively call someone a fag. He's ready to tell them that Chris is just some foolish Nick and he's ready to mock him for it because Louis’ not like that, of course not, so Chris is pathetic and sad. But that's a lie. He would be lying. "No, uh. What I mean is." Edward's putting him on the spot, and Harry's listening, and he either denies his interest in men in front of Harry when he knows that's a lie, or he admits that he fucked that Nick during the time that followed them.

Deny or admit it, Louis can't win. Which is less bad? "That yeah, actually. Yeah, I, uh..." Louis briefly rubs his palm against his forehead, trying to focus. "I guess yeah."

"No way," Edward says, "You? Really? Man, I don't get that vibe from you at all! Harry, he plays for your team!"

"Yeah, I know," Harry says, now looking up, smile stretched thin. Forced. "I know."

Edward huffs. "And I'm out of the loop?" But he seems more intrigued than offended.

Bartolomeo wouldn't lie about his homosexuality – if amongst friends, anyway. He wouldn't lie, he wouldn't be a coward. Louis won't be either. Can't Harry see how he's not pretending anymore? Louis will be honest for him. He'll take that plunge, and it's terrifying in case he doesn't know it. It's terrifying.

"So you and Chris..?" Edward asks nosily.

"Just a past conquest, that's all. Clearly acting a bit clingy." 

"Nice," Edward laughs, finding this all to be amusing.

"He looks young," Harry now says. His tone is harsh. "How old was he back then? Seventeen?"

"Eighteen. Pretty sure he was eighteen."

"Sleeping with kids" he says, shaking his head, rolling his eyes and taking a long sip. Louis was twenty-six, Chris was eighteen and willing. kids these days, they're all so willing.

"Hey, if they're legal, they're legal," Edward says like that's that. He's not criticising him. Harry is.

Louis tried to be honest here, thought Harry would... appreciate that, be awed that he's being upfront about it. That he sleeps with guys. Thought he'd be impressed, but he's clearly pissed off. It was a long time ago. Why does Louis feel like he needs to justify a kid he met at a club years ago?

Edward looks pensive. "I'm still confused, though. Robin told me you used to have a girlfriend and I thought ...you and Kendall maybe... I mean, do you like both or...?"

Louis wants to shrug and say who knows, give a speech on why do they need to label things, anyway. But again he thinks of Bartolomeo and how he rants about these things, how Harry approves.  
He thinks of the times when Harry and him first met, how in the same breath Louis told him that he wasn't gay and if Harry could please get on all fours for him. Louis knows that hurt him, fucked with his mind.

Harry's now giving him the cold shoulder.

"I'm mostly gay." And that's as firm as Louis can make that statement. He waits for Harry to give him his approval for having said it. There, Louis said it.

"No way," Edward repeats, still caught up in this. "Wow, so you got a, you know, a significant other back home?"

"No, it's nothing like that."

Harry is very persistently not looking at him. His forehead gets wrinkles as his brows knit together, like he's deep in thought or something extremely unpleasant is running through his head.

"Ah," Edward grins. "So there is someone."

Harry's eyes are fixed somewhere over Louis’ shoulder. Chris will be back in a second with drinks, and he'll be overly obvious and wanting Louis to take him back to his home, but no, Louis won't, but Harry will see Chris coming onto him anyway. And now Edward is bringing up Franco, who is not a teenager, in Louis’ defense: he's older than him and Franco didn't need seducing and Louis certainly did not take advantage of him.

But this is something Louis doesn't want to discuss in front of Harry. He doesn't want to fill his head with stories of guys he's fucked, and he certainly doesn't want him to think there is someone else, that there ever has been.

"No, I mean – there was a guy but it was just a casual arrangement," Louis tries to clarify, and Edward laughs like he thinks Louis’ being bashful. "No, really, it was casual. We weren't together, last summer we just started to, you know –"

"Since last summer?" Harry now cuts in, efficiently shutting Louis up. "Wow." He clears his throat. "Wow, that's a long time."  
The more Louis talks, the worse he makes this for himself.

Chris is now navigating back their way, two whisky glasses in hand. Edward gives him a confidential look like they're on the same page and then takes off like he'll leave them to it. Louis doesn't want to be left to it. He has no interest in some kid he boned three fucking years ago.

"Well, enjoy," Harry says, and it sounds angry and bitter although he's trying to sound disinterested.  
Louis blocks him. Trying to establish eye contact to no avail, feels desperate when Harry refuses to look him in the eye. God, what is he? Angry? Jealous? Disappointed?

"Harry, look, I know that all sounds bad –"

"Hey, each to their own," he shrugs. He then holds Louis’ gaze as if he's challenging him.

Louis’ hands curl into restless fists at his sides. "Do we need to talk about this?" The words are rushed. "Because you know that – that doesn't mean anything. Don't be mad at me for this. You know how we men are. We're horny, right? It doesn't have to be..."

"Louis," he laughs, but it's angry, still angry. "I don't care who you fuck. Why would that matter to me?"

And there is nothing but stony indifference in his eyes. Something in Louis breaks. Because he's back there, on the outside looking in. Louis can't figure out what he's thinking. His brown eyes are a wall, not giving anything away.

He has hurt him.

It's only ever mattered with you. The words are there, a lump in his throat: only you. He is the only man whose sounds and weak spots Louis’ memorized, he is the only one who Louis wanted to make his. It's only ever mattered with him.  
But he can't say it.

"I'll catch you later," Harry says, and Louis lets him go. Watches him leave, pass Chris on the way.

Louis’ eyes find Bartolomeo talking to Niall and Luke Barto spots Harry just then, breaks into a smile and waves him over, and Harry heads that way. And it's probably safe to say that in that conversation, a random guy Bartolomeo fucked after a break up with Harry won't show up and ruin everything.  
Because they have a clean slate, those two.

And Louis’ good intentions and starting overs doesn't matter. You can't build on debris. Louis’ tried, but you can't.  
The realization of it hits him, then, as a hollow entity that takes up all the space within him: He'll always hurt Harry. There will always be something.

"Here you go," Chris says, having reached him, eyes still smiling and asking to be fucked. Louis takes the drink from him and downs it in one go.  
Chris laughs.

It's good that someone does. 

x x x

"What do you want to do today?" Ashton asks. "The others were thinking of going to the bigger lake at the end of town. We could go swimming."

Louis has no plans for today, but hiding inside sounds like a good idea. "I don't know."

Ashton looks at him with concern. "Louis, you're not alright." 

"I know."

He keeps peering at him and then sighs. Gives up. Louis can't talk about it.

They reach the lake a little later, and the guys start looking around for flat stones in the gravel, to try and skip stones. Ashton decides that he's too depressing company even for him, and Louis keeps his distance, watches them at it. Zayn gets seven skips and then tries to teach Harry his secret.

Louis feels completely detached from their carefree outing.

It doesn't matter that Louis made damn sure that everyone – and by everyone he means Harry – saw him leaving the pub alone last night. That it was obvious he ditched Chris almost instantly, some common courtesy aside. It doesn't matter because Harry's barely looked at him today.

Louis let him down. Somehow. Without even trying.

Bartolomeo's moved along from the group, and he sits down on a bench not too far away from the rest. It seems like he's happy to observe too. Harry's throwing rocks into the water. He's never looked as tired as he does today.

Louis had something to do with that. Harry would never admit it, but he's relatively sure of it.  
He lights up a cigarette and walks over to the bench where Bartolomeo is. He says, "Smoke?" and offers him the cigarette pack.

"No, thanks. I don't smoke."

Louis laughs. "Well of course you don't."

The green-haired man quirks an eyebrow at him, but Louis only pockets the pack, sits down by him and smokes. He's kind about it, blows the smoke away from them. Watches Harry, now walking along the shore slowly.

He wanted to show Harry this place. He wanted to take him down to the bridge, stop in the middle of it and point out to him the shore of the tiny island nearby because Louis stood there the last year, he stood there at nine in the morning, hungover and heartbroken, thinking about him, about the memory of him that was slipping away. And swans, Louis would like to think migrating swans, suddenly landed in the water in front of him. They're majestic animals, bigger than you think. Flapping their wings, water splashing, sparkling white, craning long necks. And there was beauty in the world. Even with everything he felt that he had lost – beauty in this world remained. Louis could be ugly and hideous inside, but he would never take this world down with him.

It was an important lesson to learn. He wanted to tell Harry about that. He wanted to show him that place, take him there, just the two of them. Lean against the bridge railing early in the morning with no one else in sight. Have his arm around Harry's waist. Tell him that he's became good that day. He became a little bit better.  
But not good enough. Never good enough.

"Take him hiking tomorrow."

"Sorry?" Barto asks, probably having assumed that Louis planned on saying nothing.

"We're surrounded by mountains. He likes it here, haven't you noticed? He likes it. And he's never been here before, and he likes exploring and adventures. So take him hiking. And then walk along the river, take him out for dinner. But don't offer to pay for it, he won't like that. Remember to treat him as an equal. He doesn't need to be looked after."

"Of course." Barto's listening to every word he says, soaking it up. Louis’ smoke's now forgotten between his fore and middle finger. The more he speaks, the hollower he feels, but he forces himself to go on.

"And don't be intrusive and ask him to open up. He'll tell you eventually when he's ready. Because if you try to push him, you'll only push him away. You need to be patient with him, but it's worth it. It'll be worth it." Louis flicks the cigarette and specks of ash drop onto his black shoes. He doesn't look at Bartolomeo, his expectant face that's just visible from the corner of his eye, and he doesn't look at Harry, walking along the shoreline. "Ask him about his favorite music, food. Everything. Harry is easy to talk to once he talks about the things he loves. Tell him a few funny stories, make him laugh. There's a tiny record store in town, they have the most insane music. Take him there, I'm sure he will like it." A silence ensues. "Alright?"  
Is that enough? Will that do?

"Yeah, those are great ideas," he says, sounding grateful. Louis knows they are. He knows Harry. He knows what Louis would show him if he could.

"I know it's..." Louis starts but then words fail him. It burns right then, actually doing this. It burns in his guts, and a huge part of him – no, all of him, all of him is fucking broken over this. All night and all day, he has known that this is what he needs to do. That it's time. "It's fucking cliché, but he's special. He's really fucking special." Louis looks at Bartolomeo, meets his green eyes. He doesn't have Louis figured out, Louis can see that much. "And if you hurt him-"

"I'd never –"

"No, you listen to me," Louis says, cutting him off, his tone now angry. "If you hurt him, you're done. Don't think I won't beat you up for it. And I'm not the only one, either." Louis’ eyes slide to Zayn and Edward, not standing too far away. Harry is the sun to a lot of people.

Bartolomeo frowns even as he nods. "Yes. I get it." Okay then. Well, okay.

"He's lucky to have a friend like you," Barto says now.

Lucky? Louis doesn't know if that's what Harry would call it. He was never lucky.

Louis doesn't reply because he's said everything that needed to be said. He did his part, and it kills him.

But he did good. Hey, he did good. He swears.

Louis squints and sees something white out on the lake. A swan. Bearing witness: and then the letting go. Has he qualified for humanity at last?  
But then Louis blinks, and he sees nothing. 

x x x

The knock on his bedroom door is sharp and hard, but Louis’ up, he is, he is. It's ten to five in the morning, and Louis’ awake.

"Who is it?" he calls out as he heads to the door.

"Ashton."

When Louis opens the door, Ashton is standing in the corridor, looking shaken. "Come in." Louis heads back inside.  
He hears the door closing behind him. "Where were you last night?" Ashton asks. "Hmm?"

"Last night. Yesterday. All of it, really. You weren't here. I tried to find you."

"Around." Louis’ notebook is on top of the pile. He hasn't drawn anything in it, though he took it with him today, thought something would pour out. But nothing has. Like the well's gone dry.

"Around," Ashton repeats, tone somewhat dead. Against Louis’ better judgement, he asks, "Why?"

Louis tries to sound clinically disinterested. He hears Ashton sigh and sees him move to the armchair that's just in Louis’ peripheral vision. Something's wrong, Louis can tell that right off the bat, but he doesn't know if he truly wants Ashton to tell him. He made himself scarce on purpose yesterday, and he's done such a good job not thinking about what everyone got up to.

"You should've been here last night," he says at length. "Yeah? Did you guys have a good time?"

"No, I mean..." His knees have started bouncing. "Look, Louis... I don't know how to tell you, so. So I'm just gonna tell you." He twists his hands. Unpleasant news, clearly. "Harry and... Barto. They weren't around last night either, and Edward said that they'd gone out. Which, you know, is fine. But, uh. I saw them coming back. Or well, I saw them outside Harry's room."

Coming back from their date.

Louis then know what Ashton witnessed, what he's going to say: a goodnight kiss. Press of skin on skin. Guess it's official, then. Guess it was a successful date, guess Bartolomeo was everything Harry hoped for and then some. Guess they're meant to be. Good. Good, good, good. Louis’ insides burn, but he knew it would happen. He's accepted it. Almost.

Not at all, really.

"I don't want to be the one to tell you," Ashton then says, sighing. "But you need to know."

"I already do."

"No, you don't know this. You don't." 

"Ashton –"

"I think they'd gotten caught in the rain, they were soaked through. And they were laughing and- and standing really close to one another. And they were holding hands." He pauses. "And then Barto went in with Harry."

Louis’ mind has gone blank, and it takes him a moment before he says, "What?"

"That's why I tried to find you! I came knocking on your door but you weren't here, and nobody knew where you were. If you'd been here," Ashton says, and he gazes at him with big, sorry eyes when Louis finally looks at him.

"Oh."

It's all he can say.

Louis knew that they were going out. He knew it, and he couldn't stomach being here for it, waiting and wondering, so he was in town. Smoking and drinking and chatting and listening to records.  
But... in Louis’ head. First date. A peck on the lips. They'd take it slow, surely, Bartolomeo is the kind of guy who'd take it slow – hasn't he been raving about true love and meeting someone special? And Louis thought he would get used to it gradually, accept it and be better for it. But they... on the first date. Last night. They –  
Guess Bartolomeo's just human after all.

"Fuck," Louis breathes, his hand coming up to rub at his mouth. He tries to get the sickening feeling to subside. Breathe. Just fucking breathe. Realize how ridiculous he's being. It was going to happen sooner rather than later, right? Right.

"It's fine," he forces himself to say. "It's fine." 

"But –"

"It's fine! It is. I mean, what should I have done?" Louis asks with a bitter chuckle. "Break the door down? Stop two consenting adults?" he spits out the last words.

"I don't know," Ashton says, sounding anguished.

Louis tries to pretend it has no effect on him, but it does: momentarily everything seems to slip away. His body feels weak, his knees feel weak, but he will take this like a man, he will. He will take this standing. And he doesn't know what Ashton wants him to say: that he's jealous and full of unrequited love? Well, he is.

But so be that too.

It's his cross to bear, and it's not Ashton's business or anyone else's. "How long will they be here again?" Louis asks jokingly.

But this'll do him good. Watching them. He'll get used to it. He will.

He fights the longing burn on his tongue. Focuses on breathing. "Hey, I'm happy for them. Or well – I will be." Louis nods solemnly, forcing himself to calm down. "I will be happy for them one day."  
Ashton stares at him like he can't understand what's coming out of his mouth. "But... But you love him." It sounds like an accusation if there ever was one. When Louis doesn't react, he sighs. 

"God, I don't understand you!"

"You're too young."

"Don't say that!" Ashton snarls, agitated. "I hate it when people say that, that you'll understand when you're older. Why is that a good thing? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the older you get, the more fucked up you become? And that maybe those younger than you have a healthier perspective on things."

"This isn't about you!" Louis snaps and feels guilty for it. He doesn't mean to raise his voice at him when it's not his fault, but this is so fucking hard for him, can't he see that? This is hard but he's trying, he's trying, and Ashton needs to let him try. Ashton's being a selfish little prick right now. God, this is not about him. And it's all a bit too late, isn't it? They spent the night together. What does Ashton expect him to do? Turn back time?

Louis can't.

"We're putting it to rest," Louis says with finality. "Alright? I can admit that I... hoped. Or thought. For a while, I mean, I thought that maybe..." But Harry isn't his. They would be doomed, are doomed, so they're moving on. He's distancing himself from him: Harry has his own life. Louis will never be a part of it as anything more than a friend or as the guy who screwed him over. It's not his business what he gets up to in his room with guys who adore him. It's not.

"I'll be alright, you know," Louis then tells Ashton because he knows he's worried about him. He takes in a breath. "Thanks for telling me."

Ashton says nothing for a long time, just watches him. Then he whispers, "Sure."

He will...survive this somehow. And Harry wouldn't flaunt it in front of him. He's not that sadistic.

Louis hopes. 

x x x

Niall's call for breakfast comes earlier than Louis hoped. He hasn't slept at all, and he's not ready to face Harry. But then again, Louis would be surprised if Harry actually would be there.

"Morning," he says when he gets to the kitchen. Luke, Harry and Kendall are already sitting there, munching away. So he's on time. Louis’ surprised: Harry is usually tired after sex – well, that depends on how much you tire him out, how long you go at it. But if you fuck for a good while, like they used to, then he'll be tired. And if the last time he got laid was as long ago as he said, then last night must have been very welcomed. He would have kept asking for more. Bartolomeo looks like the kind of guy who knows how to please, who can keep on going, so Harry most likely was relaxed and sated and sleepy afterwards, curled up under the covers, come stains on the sheets. It's hard to wake him up from that slumber, to kick him out of bed so really, it's impressive that he's on time.

And it flashes through his mind: his hair – messy, tousled sex hair, pulling on it, head thrown back into the pillow. His eyes, slightly glossy, and dark smudges underneath it. Probably stayed up all night getting fucked and Louis-

Louis sees him, and all he sees are telltale signs.

Harry looks his way a bit funnily. He looks debauched. Louis’ stomach turns at how wrong it is.

"You alright?" Las asks.

"Yeah," Harry says and then coughs slightly, pressing a hand to his chest and rubbing absently.

Louis helps himself to breakfast, and he doesn't look back at Harry, but he doesn't have to. He'll always remember the way he looks this morning, on the first morning after.  
Louis thinks of all those dramatic teenagers who say things like "I'll die without you" or "I just can't go on", or even "I can't live if living is without you". They all have it wrong. Because sure, it feels like that. But it's not true. You don't die without them, you do go on, and you can live if living is without them. And the sooner you realize that, the better it is for you.

Time keeps moving on. The world does not stop for you.

And Louis wishes he could've... he wishes they could have... Well, never mind now.

Never do they mind.

And the indescribable loss is his home.


	28. FOR YOU, ANYTIME

"Smile," Ashton commands, stabbing Louis in the ribs as he pokes him with a pointy finger. "Smile!"

Louis sighs irately and smiles for the picture that an elderly woman is taking with Ashton's analog camera. The mild wind blows their hair as they pose for her, standing on the bridge and leaning against the railing. Ashton already took a picture of her – tourist kindness exchange. She now snaps one of them.

Ashton hurries to take the camera from her, thanking her repeatedly. He winds the film ready for the next shot. Louis turns back to face the river, the water murky and uninviting. He holds on to the large paper bag that's got two LPs in it, one for him and one for Ashton. They bought them on a visit to his favorite record store. It's twilight now, and the day has been long. It's been long, long, long and now Louis watches as the street lights turn on one by one.

"Oh, I hope that'll turn out well," Ashton says, fiddling with the camera as his elbows rest against the thick railing. "Hope there was enough light."

Louis’ feet ache from having walked all over the place for hours, but Ashton's been excited and bubbly, and it's been a good distraction. They sat in a restaurant with a view to the river, and it was nice to hang out with him.

The others are planing a hiking route for tomorrow so Ashton and him decided to go out today, and they walked in the park and Louis bought him a record and then took him out for dinner. Louis hasn't spoken much all day, but Ashton speaks for them both, discussing anything and everything: look at this fork, Louis, look at how long the tines are, I don't think they're this long back home, so weird, don't you think?

Ashton's trying to keep his mind busy and Louis appreciates the effort. The pain of it all has become a persistent yet dull throb at the bottom of his stomach. It's unceasingly there, but Louis can live with it. It's just another thing to get used to.

"I'm meeting up with Edward at that one expensive fancy 'golden 20's' bar in... fifteen minutes," he now says, checking his wristwatch.

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, you don't want to be late," Louis says.

The streets are kind of French looking, Ashton muses, tall poplars on both sides of the street, old, elegant buildings with pastel colored facades behind them. He doesn't really know where he's going – he doesn't have much of a sense of direction. Louis knows where they are, however.

The large beige building eventually comes up on their left and Ashton opens the door for him as they hurry inside. The bar is on the first floor, chandeliers glittering, a piano in the corner, jazzy twenties music being played by a pianist. The furniture looks like it's antique, rococo couches and armchairs. Edward is already there in a corner table, sipping on transparent liquid – water or vodka or gin. Probably gin. He's facing them and lifts a hand in greeting, talking to someone they can't see because the chair's back is to them.

"You're early!" Ashton says when they get there. Edward smirks. "You're late."

Now that they've reached the table, the occupier of the armchair is visible: Harry. Louis stops slightly. Pushes visuals of him and Bartolomeo out of his mind, nips the jealousy in the bud. Lets it be. Ignores the way that the loss instantly burns hotter.

"How's your day been?" Edward asks, motioning them to sit down, so they do. Louis sits next to Edward on the loveseat, the fabric a mix of azure and cream coloured swirls, and Ashton sits down on a simpler armchair covered in purple velvet.

"It's been amazing," Ashton says and then begins to recap everything they did. "And Louis bought me an album of the Beatles, you know them, well of course you do, we found this album, Louis bought it for me, here it is, isn't that great? I have it, of course, but this record store here had a European version, the tracklist is different, you see?" He shows it off to everyone "And we went into the park and we walked along the river and Louis took me out for dinner and I had an oyster as an appetizer. An oyster! It was disgusting! I loved it!" When Ashton is finally done sharing details that are probably of little interest to others, he says, "What about you guys?"

"Uh, we were out, planing the route for our hiking trip tomorrow," Edward says. "We shouldn't have let Zayn lead. We got lost, uh..."

"Fifteen times." Harry says, and his voice is scratchy and worn out like he's been speaking all day. Louis takes a look at what he's drinking: tea with a lemon slice in it. A white jar of honey is next to his teacup.

"Fifteen times until we found the route we were supposed to take." 

"Wow," Ashton says. Yeah, wow. "You don't mind going again tomorrow?" 

"At this point I'm numb, man. Numb." Louis keeps his eyes on Harry, who isn't paying much attention to the conversation. His cheeks are slightly rosy, and his eyes are glazed. In a word, he looks like shit. It's not very easy for someone as beautiful as him to manage that.

"Are you okay?" Louis asks.

"Hmm?" He blinks and looks at him. Then nods. "Yeah. Yeah, my throat just feels a bit..." He rubs his Adam's apple. "Barto and I got caught in the rain last night. Maybe I caught something. It's not bad. I've got tea."

"I keep telling him to go sleep, but he insisted on waiting until – on keeping me company." Edward takes his gin to his lips, takes a gulp. Louis looks between him and Harry but doesn't know what to make of whatever brief silent exchange they do.

"I'm gonna ask if they can put my stuff away for a few hours," Ashton says then, standing up, "I don't want to carry this around here, what if I want to dance? What do they dance in the twenties? The swing? I could totally pull that off." he laughs and then he's gone.

A waiter comes over, then, a white cloth over his arm, starched to perfection. Louis tells him he doesn't want anything, before he corrects himself and orders a beer for Ashton, while Edward hands him his empty glass. "You two had quite an outing," Edward then says, and Louis shrugs. He supposes so, yeah. "You spoil him, you do know that, right?"

Louis shrugs again. Why not? He doesn't have anyone else he could spoil. He doesn't need to justify himself to Edward or to anyone else, but he says anyway, "I have been an asshole to him a lot. Snapped at him for no good reason, so...I'm making up for it."

Harry takes a sip of his tea and then coughs slightly. He puts the tea down. The contrast between him, sitting here fatigued by the exhausting day and whatever he's coming down with, and the overly decorated bar is like watching a shaggy stray dog dining in a five star restaurant. Louis has seen him tired before, but this is the first time genuine worry for his well-being crosses Louis’ mind.  
He's got half a mind to tell him to go to bed, to bring him home and make sure he does just that.

But what Harry does with his life isn't his business anymore.

"Ashton adores you, so he'll still fawn all over you no matter what you say." Harry says now, tone more harsh than it has to be.

"Sorry?" Louis asks, unsure of how to react to the bitter edge in his words.

Harry shrugs to himself, not looking at him. "Love is not only blind, it's stupid as well."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Louis doesn't see how Harry's in a position to comment on things he knows nothing of. Louis hasn't said a word on him and Barto and their incapability to keep their hands to themselves, and he won't say anything on it either. And then Harry- Louis doesn't even know. Starts being snarky about Ashton.

About Ashton. What the hell.

Harry sighs heavily and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day. I think I'm coming down with something."

"Try to get some sleep," Louis tells him, and Harry nods, still not looking at him.

Louis stands up then, suddenly feeling very tired himself.

"Sorry, I think I will go home now," he excuses himself, not looking any of them in the eye and he's surprised when Edward stands up as well, and joins him.

"Don't take it personally. Harry's just tired," he says, as they make their way out of the bar.

"Yeah. I can see that."

Louis’ not angry, he's just tired of it. There is no sense to Harry's remarks, and Louis doesn't take it personally. Of course love is stupid and blind, but how is that connected to Ashton, Louis has no clue. But it feels like that wasn't about Ashton, it felt like Harry was ticked off at him. And this is the perfect opportunity for Louis to distance himself and not obsess over that. Not wonder why he'd be a bit testy when he and Barto have finally consummated their relationship.

Now is a good time for Louis to change.

Louis goes outside, nearly crashes into Bartolomeo and he suddenly finds changing harder.

Barto steps to the side, breaking into a smile. A spring in his step, joy in his heart. Louis fights off the dark dislike that erupts in him, the undeniable jealousy. "Is Harry at the bar?" he asks, and Edward nods in confirmation. Barto smiles wider, gets this warm look in his eyes. Post-coital high. "Great. See you later, alright?"

"Don't stay up too late," Edward says fraternally, clearly clueless. Barto and Harry are keeping it on the down low. At least there's that.

Edward yawns when they step outside. Louis’ not as clueless as he is, but he pushes the thoughts and mental images out of his mind because he has to. He resists the urge to follow Barto back into the bar, although a part of him is desperate to do just that. Head back down there, storm right in and do what Ashton wanted him to do: stop two consenting adults. And why?  
Because they are selfish creatures. But he refrains. Breathes in.

Lets this play out like it has to. 

x x x

The following day they are all up early in the morning, hiking up the mountains. This time following Edward and Taylor.  
The sun is high up in the air, even though it's already in the evening. Louis feels sweaty and exhausted, the view over the town with it's many lakes and woods is a beautiful one though, and makes it all kind of worth it. Still, Louis’ feet hurt, and they aren't even on top of it yet.

On top of the mountain is supposed to be a hotel and a restaurant, were they can dine and catch a break. Louis looks forward to that. Louis keeps glancing back at Harry. Usually one to lead things, Harry now falls behind them a little, huffing and looking slightly out of it. He looks even worse today than he did yesterday and Louis is actually worried.

He coughs just then – it's a clean cough, it doesn't sound rough like the air has to fight its way out. But it's still strong, and then he can't stop. He keeps coughing, eyes closing in irritation. His cheeks are a faint pink as his hand presses to his chest.

He keeps saying that it's nothing. He's loaded himself up with lemon-honey tea and some painJakes, but he refuses to take anything that might make him drowsy.  
"Hey, can we get some water?" Louis now asks, and the others who were all walking in front of him turn around. "Water?" Louis repeats and motions at Harry who's still coughing. Niall nods and searches around in his backpack.

Edward walks over to Harry and is now gently patting his back. "You alright, lil bro?"  
Harry manages to stop the coughing, having doubled over slightly. He stands straighter, takes deep breaths and nods excessively. "Yeah. It just – My throat hurts. I'm fine. It's nothing."  
"Is it a cold?" Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head.

"I'm fine."

"Does anything else hurt?"

"Louis," he says. "Don't go all doctor mode on me. I'm fine. Really."

Harry glares at him, but Louis’ not convinced. Louis has seen him flushed like this before but that was after two rounds of sex that involved getting him off three times. His skin was pink like it is now and looked overly warm. Louis walks over and presses his palm to his forehead. Harry flinches and then recoils, instantly stepping back.

"You're burning up." Louis says. 

"I'm fine."

"You've got a fever," Louis states seriously, now looking around. "We need to go home. We'll get you back into bed and –"

"Would you shut up?" Harry snaps angrily. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all! We're certainly not going all the way down again just because my throat is a bit sore."

"But –"

"We're not discussing this anymore!"

Harry stares him down defiantly. Louis backs down. Fine, be that way. Fine. Stupid fucking boy. Louis returns Harry's glare with one of his own, but the worry is lodged in his throat and unwilling to move.

Harry reluctantly and slowly drinks the water and doesn't even look Louis’ way for the rest of their way.

He doesn't look any better later when they are about to reach the top where the hotel is located. Harry's no longer flushed: instead he is pale and looks visibly ill.  
Edward notices his appearance too and says, "We are gonna be there soon. We can walk a bit slower, it's not a problem. You take it easy the last few miles." Louis almost cringes. God, that is not what he should have said. And he can see it in Harry's eyes, his reaction to Edward's concern: the hell I will.

Harry looks nauseous, he is shivering, but he's been snapping at everyone so no one dares to say a thing. Barto keeps hovering around him, though, and Harry lets him come close. Not anyone else.  
He almost sways like it's hard for him to keep his balance, but then he shakes it off. He's breathing hard, like he's running out of breath.

Even so, he doesn't stop. He struggles through it, until they reach the top.

"You alright?" Louis asks the second Harry's reached him. Harry nods, swallowing hard. He's shivering. The cold air or maybe not. Even his lips are chalk colored, the skin around his eyes red. He's covered in sweat from the exhaustion of walking, and the contrast of that to his paleness is off, doesn't follow.

"I'm fine," he says, and then repeats, "I'm fine," when Barto joins them, looking pale himself but only from worry. Barto places a hand between Harry's shoulder blades.

"Harry, shit, are you okay?" Zayn asks now too.

Harry presses a palm to his temple like he's got a splitting headache, his eyes screwed shut even as he nods that he's fine.  
Zayn calls out, "Someone get him some water!"

Edward and Luke have now joined them too, and hands land on Harry's shoulders, sympathy and concern. He brushes them off. "Stop crowding me!" he snaps and walks away from them, holding his head, shaking it like he's trying to snap out of it.

Niall gives them a bottle of water and Barto automatically takes it. Louis needs to force himself to keep his arm by his side because he wanted to go for the bottle, he wanted to take over and take care of him, but – but Louis guesses that's what the boyfriend does, and that's not him. Barto goes over to Harry while the rest of them look at one another worriedly, sighing, chewing their lips, unsure of what to do.

Barto soon returns, the bottle still with him and still full. "He doesn't want any, says it hurts to swallow," he explains. His ineptitude astounds Louis.

Louis looks to where Harry is standing by himself. Eyes screwed shut and obviously in pain.

"Let me," Louis says because doesn't Barto get that it's not about what Harry fucking wants? And Louis knows it's Bartolomeo's place now, not his, but Harry's ill, and he is – Fuck, is he expected to just stand here and do nothing?

Louis can't do that.

And so he takes the bottle from Barto, and he quickly walks over to Harry. "Drink this," he says, and Harry shakes his head. "Fucking drink it!"

He shakes his head again but then looks towards the hotel. His eyes are glazed. "Are we there yet?" he asks, voice husky. "T-The, uh. I don't. I don't remember when we-"

"Just drink the water." And Louis grabs his hand and pushes the bottle into it. He seems confused. Louis lets go of the bottle. Harry hasn't tightened his grip of it, and it falls right to the floor, splattering water all over their shoes. "Oh, great!" Louis snaps, backing away from the mess. "You're so fucking –"

But then Harry's not standing. He's collapsing.

"Harry!"

Louis catches him – barely, just, gets an arm around his middle, but he's a dead weight. He pulls Harry to his chest but the impact of him going down makes Louis sink down to his knees with him. "Harry?! Harry, fuck –"

Louis turns Harry to face him, his upper back against Louis’ thighs. Harry's eyes are closed. His head is lolled to the side. The others are rushing over, but Harry doesn't react to their voices, nor Louis’, doesn't respond to his touch, and Louis can't – breathe, he can't, he –

Someone says his name, but it's so far away.

Harry's not waking up. 

x x x

The doctor is an English man, Dr. Porter, who now resides in America. That's reassuring. The English, they're of sturdy backbone, they're of serious nature, they do their job. They better fucking do their job.

Harry's hotel room has two rooms, one a living area, the other a bedroom. The double doors to the bedroom are now closed, and Porter's been in there for ten minutes. Ten minutes. That's a long time. They can't hear any sounds coming through, can't hear the doctor, can't hear Harry, which, alright, he's in no condition to speak. Harry hovers on the border of consciousness, visiting both sides.  
Louis has never been this fucking scared in his life.

The others are sitting on the chairs, radiating nervousness and concern.

Louis stays by the window, away from them. The fear isn't going anywhere. That split second where Louis thought he – But Harry wasn't reacting. He looked dead. For a split second, Louis swears to god, and that split second will haunt him for years, he already knows this.

So Louis can't sit there and pretend to be calm – they'd see it so easily. Instead he stays away and smokes obsessively. His eyes are almost glued to the door, waiting for news. Sick with worry for him.  
"I think we might as well check in ourselves." Edward now says. He keeps pacing around, chewing his fingernails like he has a habit of doing. "See if we can get us some rooms too."

"Well, we'll see what the doctor says," Taylor returns, speaking slowly and calmly. "Maybe we can still go down again, and don't need to stay here."

"But he collapsed," Barto says. He gets the gravity of this.

Harry's tough. He's a tough little fucker. And even now Harry knew he was sick, but he went on that hiking trip anyway, because a bit of a fever doesn't stop him.

The ache in Louis’ chest burns. He can't think about anything else. He needs to see him. He can't stand not seeing him. Can't stand this worry. Louis keeps eyeing the doors: he is behind that barrier, unreachable. Weak and sick. The thought makes Louis feel weak and sick.

Ashton and Kendall keep eyeing him slightly. Kendall asked if Louis was okay. Louis said he was. Kept his hands in his pockets because they kept trembling. Louis’ not hiding it well enough.

He flinches when the doors now open and Porter steps out. He's carrying his physician's bag, which makes him look professional, makes it easier to trust him. He's in his fifties, which is also good – he's got experience, he's not a newbie, he knows what he's doing. He gives them a reassuring yet professional smile and closes the doors gently like he doesn't want to disturb the patient.  
Bartolomeo rises up to stand, and Edward stops pacing. Louis holds his breath.

"Well," Porter says, "it appears that he has an acute case of pharyngitis. That's all. It has, however, brought on a high fever. His body quite simply can't keep up with him, and his immune system hasn't been able to defend itself against the viral infection. In other words, his body has said no."

"B-But will he be okay?" Bartolomeo asks. "Does that mean he'll be okay?" 

"Yes."

Louis inhales sharply, then ducks his head and holds back any further slips. Let it radiate through him: he'll be okay, he'll be okay.

"I've given him some painJakes, but he needs rest. I've written instructions down for you." Porter opens his bag and digs out a piece of yellow paper. Barto takes it from him, eyes reading.

Zayn asks, "Can he go down with us tonight?"

Porter looks hesitant. "That would be extremely physically draining, I don't think he will be able to."

"Is it contagious?" Luke asks now.

The doctor eyes the rest of them somewhat critically. "Assuming you're all healthy, you should be fine. He would not have caught this had he been in average health. And assuming that he follows my instructions, he should be back to normal in a week or so."

Louis’ not convinced by his diagnosis, however. Harry – He fucking collapsed, and Louis barely caught him and Louis couldn't fucking breathe. "But he was burning up earlier," Louis now says, speaking for the first time since they got here. The doctor blinks at him. "Are you sure some sleep is all he needs?"

"Yes. And some painJakes to help with the fever symptoms. He just needs to sweat it out."

Well, alright then. Alright then.

Porter goes on to give Bartolomeo and Edward further instructions. Ashton is giving Louis what he probably thinks is a supportive smile as Louis tries to keep his emotions in check.  
Just an infection, he will be okay, he'll be fine. But Harry's so stubborn, he might not listen – God, if he doesn't do as the doctor says, Louis will fucking make him.  
He takes a deep breath. Harry will be okay.

The excruciating worry eases slightly. He stubs out his cigarette into the ashtray he's placed on the window sill, his palms sweaty. He looks out the window, and the view should be breathtaking but it's gotten dark already. It's started raining, and drops of water roll down the glass, little trails of it, connecting, intersecting. Louis closes his eyes and counts to ten. Hands in his pockets. Repeat it: he'll be okay.

Because if he wasn't, if something ever happened to him – Louis wouldn't know how to go on.

But Harry's fine. He'll be fine, he'll be fine. And Louis doesn't know when Harry became a focal point for him, at what stage Louis started building his life around him. He doesn't know, and it doesn't matter. He wouldn't change it for anything, and even this, the role of an observer, will do. As long as he'll be okay.

"I'll go check up on him," Edward says once he has shown the doctor to the door. "You guys should check into the hotel, go get some sleep."  
But Bartolomeo doesn't move. 

"I think I should stay." 

"What? No. He needs rest."

"But I'm his –" Barto says, agitated, but then stops himself. Zayn is looking at him with wide eyes like he'd want to know what exactly Barto is. "I just." Bartolomeo looks around embarrassedly. "I just think I should stay."

"Right, well," Edward mumbles, giving in. Clearly doesn't want to discuss this. "I'll go see how he is first, alright?" Bartolomeo nods and then reluctantly sits back down. Louis says nothing. That's his role now, the one where he says nothing. Edward disappears to the bedroom, and Louis tries to listen to him speaking or Harry speaking – his voice, if Louis could just hear his voice.

"Did I miss a memo on you and Harry?" Zayn asks frankly. He doesn't beat around the bush much, always says it like it is. Zayn is Harry's best friend, Louis is surprised that even he doesn't seem to know. Barto says nothing. But his silence, really, is the answer. Kendall looks Louis’ way again, slightly worriedly. Whatever Kendall saw tonight – the fear in Louis’ eyes, whatever it was – has given him away. Like for a convenient while Kendall forgot that Harry and him used to... But now she's been reminded of it.

Louis’ not going to start a fight, challenge Bartolomeo to a duel. This is old news to Louis by now. Harry made his choice. He made it a long time ago.  
Louis has accepted it at last.

Edward returns after a few minutes, and Louis holds his breath for some news. But – Edward doesn't look reassured. He looks paler coming out than going in. He eyes them, clearly feeling uncomfortable, and worry tightens in Louis’ guts again.

"Harry's fine," he rushes out because clearly that look of concern on his face is visible to them all. "He's fine, uh. He's pretty out of it from the fever, it's hard to make sense of what he says. He, uh. Does, however..." He looks at Barto. Then he looks at Louis, and Louis doesn't know why. Then he hangs his head and sighs. "Harry's asking for you." He looks towards the door like he wants to avoid eye contact with everyone. "Harry's asking for Louis."

Louis stares.

Can't process the words. And then he does.

At that second, he feels like he suddenly catches a fever of his own. Something hits him hard, something that's bigger and heavier and more significant than all of this. This mountain, these people, this room – meaningless details, accessories in a much bigger picture in which they play no part. In which only Harry and him... In Louis’ head, only them...

The clarity of that realization is instant, and the yearning to see him, make sure he's okay, knowing that he's asked for him overrules any rational thought.  
"Okay," Louis says, and Edward nods stiffly. He ushers the others out like he doesn't want to prolong or discuss this in any way. Louis doesn't even know what he would say to them, so he stays where he is, heart hammering. He's subject to long looks from the others, some foreboding, some curious, some confused. Louis doesn't care what they think of it – Harry's asked for him.

"But –" Bartolomeo says, eyeing Louis with utter confusion, and Edward cuts him off, says, "I know, but just roll with it. Get some rest. You'll see Harry tomorrow."

Louis can ignore the others' slow gazes, but Barto's is harder. Louis should say something, should tell Edward that it's alright, Barto can stay but – No. Harry's ill, and you'd need a higher power to make Louis leave him, to not go to him when he asks.

The door closes behind Bartolomeo. Edward lets out a sigh, hands now in his long hair. He walks over to Louis, looking like he's too tired for this. He gets out Porter's yellow note and hands it to him. 

"There. Since you're a doctor, I'm sure you can figure it out. And I don't," he says sharply when Louis opens his mouth, "I don't need to know, Tomlinson, I don't. It's between you and Harry. Fuck me if I've got a clue as to what's going on here."

And then he hurries out, shaking his head to himself. The door closes behind him.

The silence is sudden.

Louis didn't think that he would...

But then Louis doesn't care. They don't matter.

In the next second, he's already in the bedroom. A lamp on the bedside table is on, being the only source of light in the dark. The curtains have been drawn, Harry's backpack is in the corner, and he, god, he's under the covers.

And then Louis’ there, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking him in fervently – which is ironic, considering.

His eyes are closed, but he's not asleep. His breaths are shallow and irregular, his chapped lips parted. He was pale before, but now he's flushed and sweaty. His cheeks are red, but it's not a healthy shade, it distinctively looks like he's burning up. It's hard to tell if the wet hair stuck to his forehead is the result of the exhausting hike or the fever. The worry remains even at his side, feeling unbearable, and Louis’ hands hover, not daring to touch. Harry's been stripped out of most of his clothes that Louis spots in a messy pile on a chair. He's left in his t-shirt, and a bare ankle sticks out from under the duvet, his jeans also having been removed. Louis pulls the covers over his foot so that he doesn't get cold.

This stirs Harry slightly, and Louis whispers, "Hey."

Harry's eyes flutter open. Louis’ stomach drops. Harry looks at him for a few seconds before recognition seems to kick in. "Hey," he breathes out, sounding relieved. He breaks into a smile, and Louis almost laughs from how relieved he feels, how desperate. God, hey. Fuck.

Harry's eyes close again. Tired. His hand reaches out, and Louis clutches it instantly, feels the way his skin emits heat. Closes his eyes. Breathes. Feels him alive. Feels the way his hand grips his own – weakly, but it still does. Reassures himself.

He'll be okay.

"You're so fucking stubborn," Louis tells him, and Harry laughs weakly like he's amused. Louis joins him even though his laugh is slightly pained. "God, what am I gonna do with you?"

Harry doesn't seem to hear him as he slips deeper into his feverish state where nothing really makes sense to him. Their hands rest on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. Louis carefully brushes back strands of hair from his forehead with his free hand. Harry doesn't mind. Doesn't object. His hair is sweat-slick. He's burning up badly, and he mumbles nonsense to himself. He shivers, letting out a sharp whine of discomfort, and Louis shushes him.

"What is it?" Louis asks. 

"I'm cold," he manages. 

"Harry, you're burning up."

He shakes his head, looks lost like a child. "It's really cold," he says miserably, turning to lie on his side and bringing his knees up, hurdling together. He shivers and can't seem to stop.

"I'll get you some blankets, alright?" Louis brushes his hair gently, bends locks around the shell of his ear. "And then you need to sleep."

But they still haven't let go of each other's hands, and when Louis tries to pull his back, Harry won't let go. Instead he pulls his hand closer to his chest, holds it there protectively. "Don't go."

"I'll just –"

"No. Don't go." He sounds anguished.

"I won't. Hey, trust me. I'm not going anywhere." This seems to relax him.

A part of Louis knows that it's not a good idea, that this might be pushing it – It is, but. Harry wants him here. No one else will know. It doesn't concern them, anyway. It's about what Harry needs, whatever helps.

So after Louis manages to free his hand with a promise of staying, he takes off his shoes, leaves them by the bed. Removes his jacket. Doesn't think anything of it when he unbuckles his belt, doesn't think of how he's done this in his presence uncountable times, but this time Louis pulls the belt out of the loops and keeps his pants on.

He rounds the bed because well – Harry sleeps on the left and Louis sleeps on the right. Louis knows that. Although sometimes they just slept all over each other, no coordination or direction. Still. They have sides.

But Louis doesn't get under the covers with him. No, that he can't do. So he gets on top of them, moving closer to him. He curls his arm securely around Harry's middle and pulls him to his own body. Harry's hand instantly moves to rest over his, and he exhales softly. "You're warm."

Louis rests his head on the pillow that they share, and he closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of his hair. "Bet you anything that you're warmer."  
He hums in agreement and pushes into Louis’ embrace. Goes lax. And at that second, the feeling of being home is overwhelming.

"Sleep." Louis says, and Harry does. 

x x x

Louis tells himself not to fall asleep, to stay guard and count Harry's breaths, but he fails because in the next moment of consciousness, things have changed. Louis drowsily becomes aware of heat on his skin, on his stomach. Somehow he know it's Harry and in his sleep the knowledge is soothing. But when he stirs further, he realizes that the covers are gone and that Harry's turned around in his arms, his nose now pressed to Louis’ collarbone, his hair brushing Louis’ chin. And Louis’ shirt is no longer tucked into his pants. Like it's been pulled out of the way.

Harry's hand is resting on Louis’ bare stomach under his shirt. His calloused fingertips press into the skin there. Just that, nothing more. A touch, and Louis’ body is quickly rousing from a lulled state into being extremely aware.

Their ankles are entwined, and when Louis carefully looks down, he realizes that the covers are at the bottom of the bed, having been kicked out of the way. Not sure by who or how they have managed that.

Harry's still warm, too warm, and still deep asleep.

But his hand moves on Louis’ skin, now dipping lower to his navel. His body responds, muscles tightening, his cock slowly hardening. Fuck.  
Harry's breaths on his skin are hot, and Louis’ arm is almost greedily wrapped around Harry's upper half, holding him to himself. It seems that Louis’ subconscious thinks that they are lovers while they sleep.

Harry now sighs and pushes closer to him, pushing a leg between his. It feels good. Louis’ pulse picks up, and he knows how this could go: while still mostly asleep, they begin to grind against each other, hips jerking and pushing, sweet pressure against their hardened cocks. Then their hands would eventually move to each other's dicks, snaking into underwear if they are wearing any, and then they would end up spilling over each other's knuckles and panting into each other's mouths.

Louis can't.

Not that he doesn't want to. He does. But he can't.

He gently takes Harry's wrist and slowly pulls his hand back, slipping it out of Louis’ clothes. His body relaxes when Harry's tempting touch is gone. Harry seems to be okay with this when Louis lets his hand go, his arm wrapping around his waist instead. And then Harry pushes closer. Constantly closer. His body seems to vibrate with unreleased energy as a shiver runs all the way through him: it's the fever, Louis tells himself. Just the fever, the fever.

He pushes his leg even further between Louis’, but then he stops moving. Louis stays still and focuses on calming down. When it feels like a status quo has been achieved, he gently tries to untangle himself from him, to move down and pull the covers back up.

But Harry jerks against him, his hand curling into a fist at the back of Louis’ shirt. "What?" he asks, voice confused, sleepy and barely audible. It sounds like he wants to know why Louis’ moving around.

"Just retrieving the covers," he tries to explain.

"Oh. Okay." He relaxes. There's a smile to his voice.

He pulls back from Louis then, thankfully, their legs still tangled as Harry rests on his back, his arm slipping from around Louis. Now that Louis sees him, he's reminded how out of it Harry still is: drops of perspiration decorate his forehead, and that's good, he's sweating it out. His lips are parted, and he's breathing shallowly. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips. He then turns his head to the side, looks at Louis through half-lidded eyes. "Where are we?"

"Hotel."

He hums and nods like that makes sense to him. Then he frowns. "I was on a mountain..."

"Yeah. Yeah, you were." He looks like he doesn't remember much after that, so Louis says, "You collapsed. I carried you to the Hotel."

He giggles at that – that's what it sounds like. His smile stretches wide even as his eyes are closed like it's too hard to try and look around. "You carried me?" he asks teasingly, and Louis’ stomach drops, hot liquid pooling in it.

"I did." Harry almost snorts. "Hey, I've got muscle. You don't weigh much." He seems endlessly amused by this, so Louis fesses up. "Okay, maybe Zayn helped me. Zayn and I carried you. You weigh more than you'd think."

"Hmm, it's the ass," Harry says knowingly, and he bucks his hips up in demonstration. His undershirt's ridden up, and his hipbones are exposed and tan and beautiful, and Louis keeps his hand by his side, doesn't touch when he so badly wants to. Just slides the tips of his fingers there, tracing across the bones, his lower belly, dip down to the start of his cock.

It's too tempting. Louis stares at the swell of Harry's cock that's obvious in his white briefs. Now he sits up quickly, gets a hold of the covers, and pulls them back on them. He should do more than that. He should get back on top of the covers, but he lets himself have this. Stays under the covers with Harry when he's relaxed, pliant, smiling. Even if Louis got a virus and some painJakes to thank for that.

Harry lets out a content sound and turns back to Louis, then, snuggling close. His arm curls around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer habitually. His nose presses against Louis’ Adam's apple. He sighs. He shivers. His fever is high. Louis takes it all in, relishes the way Harry's hair feels against his chin, the scent of shampoo and sweat, the way Harry's fingers curl into a fist in the back of Louis’ shirt, holding tight possessively. Their chests together, their ankles brushing. And Harry sighs again, sounding pleased, and he burrows into Louis further.

Louis moves a hand to his hair, carding through the locks gently. Stares at the nightstand on his side of the bed, the lamp still on, a glass of water there, a small medicine bottle of painJakes.  
"You asked for me," Louis then tells him. "I did?"

Harry sounds genuinely surprised. "Yeah."

Louis feels him smile. "And you came." 

"Yes."

"I stole you away." Harry nuzzles his throat and seems to breathe him in. "You smell like you. Not like anyone else."

Louis’ not able to follow his thoughts there, except that it sounds like he's relieved. "Who would I smell like?"

Harry lets out a displeased whine and shakes his head like no, that's not acceptable, whatever it is. Then he sighs in defeat. "Hate feeling so jealous all the time."

Louis has nothing to say to that. He's too stunned to reply. His mind works fast, trying to figure that out – Chris? Who?

"What?" Louis asks, hoping Harry will clarify. But he doesn't, and it's the fever talking, sure it is, of course. He wouldn't be jealous. Why would he be? And of whom? So Louis tells his racing heart to calm down. It's nothing at all, and he's with Bartolomeo now, so –

Then Harry's lips are suddenly there, wet and hot against the hollow of Louis’ throat. Louis’ breathing hitches. So soft, so tempting. A kiss. Louis takes in a shivery breath, his body suddenly hot.  
God, Harry's got him.

"Hmm..." He sounds pleased. His nose moves across Louis’ throat, and he inhales deeply. "I love your shape." His fingers flex around the fabric he's squeezing, and then he shivers suddenly like he's cold. Louis holds him to him, and Harry keeps shivering. He's out of it. It's painful to touch and feel. He's out of it, he doesn't know what he's saying or doing, and he's not aware of what he's doing to Louis.

Louis’ body is on override in a way it hasn't been in years. God, only Harry could bring this on.

"Just fall back asleep," Louis whispers. "Can you do that for me?" He can.

x x x

When Louis wakes up in the morning, he despises himself slightly. Or not himself, but his body and how primitive it is, how his cock's fully erect and pressed against Harry's ass. Making advances of its own in their sleep. Doing things that it's not allowed to do.

Thankfully, Harry is fast asleep, his breathing deep and even. He's facing away from Louis, and Louis’ curled around him protectively. He moves his hand up Harry's arm, feel the skin: he's not burning up. Louis instantly feels some of the worry dissolving. Thank god, thank god.  
The room is light, it's morning, and his fever's gone down.

But Louis doesn't let himself enjoy it because if he doesn't move, he'll stay like this. Pressed against Harry, Louis’ body wired and willing, just enjoying the feel of him. With every second, it becomes harder to tear himself away, and Louis thinks he's been helping himself to this too liberally already.  
It takes effort to get out of bed without waking him up. Louis peels himself off him slowly, managing to slide from under the covers. He stops to sit on the edge of the mattress, eyes still lingering on him. Never again will they – but then Louis doesn't think it.

Harry turns around then. His hand reaches out like he's trying to trace the disappeared warmth, his face turning into a frown. Louis pushes his pillow closer to him, unsure, but Harry takes it. Murmurs something incomprehensible and pulls the pillow to his chest. Relaxes once more.

Louis looks away. The ache will subside.

Louis goes to the phone and picks up the receiver, presses 100 for the reception and gets an immediate answer. "Yeah, hello, it's room, uh –" A quick look at the sticker on the phone – "231. Have you got any messages for me? No?" Louis scratches his head, fingers carding through his bed-hair, "Okay, that's fine. Uh, what time is it? Eight. Right. Can I order some food, get it delivered in an hour or so? That'd be great, yes. Um. What do I want? Um." Louis looks at the bedroom door, unsure. "Have you got a paper and a pen?"

After Louis has ordered breakfast for them, he grabs a quick shower and he's thankful that the bathroom isn't adjoined to the bedroom. He takes care of his boner – still there persistently – by turning the water cold, cold, cold. Louis could just jerk off, be done in three minutes, his mind full of fresh memories of Harry's soft skin, how good he feels, his intoxicating scent, his perfectly shaped body.

Fuck, fuck.

Louis could. But what would that say about him?

So he stands in the cold shower, thinks about anything but, and his cock eventually gives up and the erection dies down.

He's back in the living room, putting on his clothes when he hears a knock on the door. Louis doesn't have a watch but he's annoyed, anyway, knowing that it hasn't been an hour yet. Goddamn, aren't these kind of things not supposed to be late for everything, not early?

Louis tucks the towel tighter around his waist as he goes to the door, hurrying his steps so that they don't knock a second time and louder – if they wake Harry up when he desperately needs to rest, Louis swears he'll...

But when he opens the door, already irritated, he's not faced with a member of staff equipped with a trolley. Instead Bartolomeo stands in the corridor. He looks like he hasn't slept all night.  
It somehow occurs to Louis just then: He spend the night with Harry whereas Bartolomeo... didn't.

Barto seems to be thinking this exact same thing as he takes Louis in, shower fresh, almost naked, wet hair. His expression changes, becomes stony. Even more suspicious than it already was.

"Morning, uh," Louis says. It's not what it looks like, Louis almost wants to say.

Suddenly Louis’ fucking glad he didn't jerk off in the shower. He feels like Bartolomeo could maybe tell somehow. But no, nothing happened. Louis was chivalrous. Nothing happened, and there is no reason for him to suddenly feel so guilty, but he does. He spent the entire night with Harry in his arms, and that's worse than fucking him. Not that he would have – he wouldn't have.

"Harry's still asleep," Louis says and motions over his shoulder, speaking quietly. Then he realizes he's only making the situation seem even more dubious.  
Bartolomeo doesn't ask Louis where he slept. He probably doesn't feel the need to. "How is he?" he says instead. Worried and hurt.

"Better. I think the fever's gone down."

"That's really good." Barto looks him straight in the eye, and somehow it's hard to look away, like he's sizing me up and Louis can't back down. "I came to tell you that we will be going down now."

"What?" Louis asks, confused.

"We're leaving now, Bobby is still alone at the house and Edward wants Harry to stay in bed for as long as possible. He found a ropeway, it's a couple of miles away, on the other side. If Harry feels good enough by tonight, you could take that to get down."

"Oh, right. Edward's efficient, isn't he?" Louis asks, but his chitchat receives no echo from him. He clears his throat. "Okay, we'll be there."

"Yeah, looks like you've got it all under control," Bartolomeo says, and the accusation is there. Louis doesn't know what to say to that – Harry asked for him, what could he have done? He needed Louis. 

"I'll see you guys tonight then. Tell Harry that... that I hope he's feeling better. And that I miss him."

Louis forces himself not to react to that. "I will, of course."

Bartolomeo nods solemnly. Louis’ already closing the door when he says, "Is there something I should know?" and his eyes are searching when they meet Louis’. There's fear in his gaze: is Louis stealing his man?

"No. No, of course not, no," Louis says, shaking his head. Of course not. It's perfectly normal for old friends to look after one another when the other is ill. So that's all it is, really. "Look, man, he was really out of it last night, and I just, you know, felt familiar to him," Louis says like he's trying to figure this out himself: why Harry wanted him. It doesn't make sense though, Harry and Zayn know each other far longer than Louis does. Why didn't he ask for him? But while Barto might be the legitimate heir and Louis might be the bastard son, Barto's only shared a bed with Harry once or twice – that's nothing compared to Harry and him.

"Right. Okay then." Bartolomeo looks away, bites on his bottom lip. Isn't convinced. "See you later then."

"Sure. And I'll pass on the message." 

"Thanks."

The guilt in Louis remains as Bartolomeo heads down the corridor, shoulders hunched. Louis closes the door and exhales. Knows that he's crossed so many boundaries, and not entirely with permission. But Harry asked for him. He wanted him. And god, last night... Even if Harry was out of it. It felt right.

Nothing's ever felt as right.

Louis had given up on this. Louis has – he's here as a friend. They just... have some history. They can't pretend that they don't.

He towels himself off quickly, somehow feeling indecent now that these two rooms are no longer invisible to the world outside. He just got his underwear back on when he hears a crash from the bedroom. His heart jumps to his throat momentarily, fear running straight through him. A second later, he's wrenched the door open, and his eyes are immediately flying to the bed where – Harry still is. Lying on his back, eyes open, breathing unsteadily. The glass of water on the nightstand is gone.

"You alright?" Louis asks, hurrying over, still unsure of what happened, but then he sees the glass on the floor by the bed, water sinking into the carpet.  
Harry sees him and blinks. He looks tired and confused. "Louis," he says weakly, and it's half-question and half-statement.

"I'm here." Louis sits down on the edge, places a hand on his stomach. Harry flinches. Louis blinks. Pulls his hand back, embarrassed.  
Harry looks at Louis in his underwear, Louis’ hair still wet. Then he looks around the room, craning his neck. And that soft, open look in his eyes is gone. The fever's gone down. He's back to remembering how things really are.

"We're in a hotel room," Louis explains, trying to put the puzzle pieces together for him. "We were hiking."

"I know that," he says like he's not completely stupid, but then he just looks perplexed and lost. "We were on top of the mountain."

"We were."

"And then what? Why are you here?"

Louis’ stomach drops. Harry doesn't remember last night. Louis has already told him all of this, he's told it as Harry laughed and then pushed closer to him, cuddling, nuzzling, even kissing. They have been here. Harry doesn't remember it, and something in Louis sinks.

The night is gone, and so are they.

"You collapsed. The hotel had a doctor."

Harry closes his eyes, his brows knitting together. "I think I remember that," he says at last. "Was he English?"

"He was, yeah. And then you asked me to stay, so I did."

"Oh." He sounds like he doesn't know what to make of that. Louis changes the subject quickly.  
"How you feeling?"

Harry groans. "Everything aches. I'm exhausted. Where, uh." He clears his throat, coughs. His lips look chapped, and Louis realizes that he was trying to reach for the glass to get something to drink. Harry's probably dehydrated as hell. "Where is everyone?"

"On their way to back down. Home" This instantly wakes him up. "What?"

He immediately tries to get out of bed, but Louis pushes him back from his shoulders, says, "No, fuck, what do you think you're doing?" Harry's too weak to fight him at all and falls back against the mattress.

"But we –"

"Hey, calm down," Louis says as he's suddenly breathing hard, nearly panicked. "Hey." Louis’ hand's lifted to his hair, going through the strands. "God," Louis sighs, his insides aching. "You need to take better care of yourself."

Something like guilt flashes on Harry's features briefly, and he looks away. "Just rest some more, okay?"

He nods, clearly still agitated. Louis gently pulls his hand back from his hair. Harry doesn't comment on it and neither does Louis.

A loud rumbling noise sounds just then – his stomach. Harry places a hand over it. Louis merely says, "Good you're hungry. I've ordered food." He seems intrigued by this. 

"Yeah? What?"

"Honey and lemon tea for your throat. You need to get some liquids in you, the doctor said. And then I ordered some crepes, croissants, I just – Well, thought you might like it. And then yogurt and fruit, milk and cereal. And then tomato soup, onion soup, and I also got chocolate ice cream with whipped cream and extra caramel sauce. I figured there'd be something there you'd like."

He doesn't say anything at first but instead plays with the corner of the duvet, feigns interest in it. "That works," he eventually mutters.

"Good. Bartolomeo dropped by. He hopes you're feeling better. And he said that he misses you."

Harry's cheeks get colored a slight pink, but this time Louis doubts it has anything to do with the fever. "I'm, uh, really sorry that –"

"No, it's –"

"You shouldn't have to –"

"I'm fine with it," Louis says quickly – too quickly. Harry looks surprised. "I just. Good for you, you know? He, uh. He's a stand-up guy. I think he really cares for you. So." Every word Louis says is harder to get out of his throat. Harry gets this horribly open expression in his eyes, watching him like maybe he can see how it's fucking killing Louis, and Louis can't have him seeing that. Not now, not ever. Not twenty years down the line when they invite people around for casual parties at their big house.

"You want to take a shower?" Louis asks, directing the conversation elsewhere. 

"Sorry?" he asks, voice rising for no reason.

"Before the food gets here."

"If I want to, uh..." Harry begins, trails off, his eyes dropping from Louis’ face and focusing on Louis’ chest somewhere. Then he shakes his head like he's trying to bring the world into focus. "Right, right. If I want to shower. By myself." ...What the hell did he think Louis was suggesting?

Louis can't let himself think about that or them in a – in a situation like that, so he rushes out, "I'll go turn the water on for you. Let the room gather some steam, you should try and breathe that in, it'll do you good. Then I'll make sure you eat and send you back to bed."

"Who put you in charge?" Harry asks like he's almost embarrassed that Louis’ coddling him.

"I guess you did," Louis says.

Harry surprises him, then, catches him off guard. His hand lands on Louis’. "Thank you."

Harry's eyes are cast downwards. He's vulnerable right then. He doesn't do vulnerable if he can help it.

Hey, anytime. 

For you, anytime.


End file.
